


Starkiller Science

by aisling_in_outer_space



Series: Sith and Science [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Comedy, Dementia, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language, Lightsabers, Making Out, Medical Mystery, Medical Trauma, Mystery, Neurology & Neuroscience, Psychological Drama, Reader-Insert, Romance, Science, Sith, Sith Shenanigans, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Star Wars References, Storm Trooper, sex scene in chapter 26 ye be warned, there is so much angst and i am not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 135,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisling_in_outer_space/pseuds/aisling_in_outer_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious and deadly disorder affecting battle-weary Storm Troopers has been detected, leaving the First Order scrambling to find the cause.  When two captains from the First Order ask you, a recently graduated doctor, to conduct a year-long study at the Starkiller base, you accept without realising just what it means to be employed by the enemy.  Quickly, you learn that not everything aboard the planetary base is about science, and your relationships with the upper echelons of the First Order will make the difference between life and death.  As the year unfolds, you face unexpected tragedies and eminent danger, make new allies and enemies, and become tangled in a love affair--all in the name of Sith and Science.</p><p>Kylo Ren x reader<br/>Heavy on the neurology because I'm a nerd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When two captains from the First Order ask you, a recently graduated doctor, to conduct a year-long study at the Starkiller base, you accept without realising just what it means to be employed by the enemy. Quickly, you learn that not everything aboard the planetary base is about science, and your relationships with the upper echelons of the First Order will make the difference between life and death—particularly the relationship with a certain member of the Sith who has no idea what to make of you.

“So, do you accept?”

You stared down at the contract that was on the coffee table, swinging an ink pen around in your fingers as you read through it once again. The words hadn’t changed; they weren’t going to.  But you felt some trepidation as you mulled over the second to last paragraph.

_First Order authorities are not to be held accountable in case of injury, whether psychological or physical, nor death.  In case of death, next of kin shall be informed within 14 days.  Limited resources aboard base may result in immediate disposal of body within said time frame. All possessions of the deceased will be left for probate if not claimed within 31 days after informing next of kin._

Why did this paragraph always have to creep into agreements?  For fuck’s sake, you were only being asked to conduct a research study for the First Order; it wasn’t as though they expected you to don a Storm Trooper uniform and join a battle.  Besides, it wasn’t as though you knew how to fight anyway.  Your planet had seen nothing but peace for generations.  As the rest of the galaxy blew itself up, your planet had been more interested in academic pursuits.  After all, the galaxy’s largest university was there—the very university you now worked for after having graduated a year before.  Academia was all you knew and all you _wanted_ to know.  It was what you excelled at more than anything else.

And that was, apparently, why two captains of the First Order had set up this meeting in the first place.  It wasn’t as though you were the best etiology researcher on the planet.  There were a lot more professors who knew more; they knew the ins and outs of epidemiology, clinical research, geriatrics, environmental disease control, you name it.  They were the experts that you looked up to.  Yet, here they were, asking _you_ to conduct a year long research study on the effects of Storm Trooper life style and training upon the devastatingly high comorbidities of the older troops.

You had asked why they chose you.  It didn’t end up being a matter of your excellent research skills so much as that everyone better had turned down the job.  Granted, you weren’t bad or anything.  In fact, you were sometimes uncannily gifted when it came to reading people and thus understanding their health history.  But you were still in your twenties, still learning, still definitely not as well trained nor as knowledgeable as countless other professors and researchers whom you had worked under.

But they divulged that you were number seven on their list.  The other six had made every sort of excuse: “I have my family to attend to”, “I’m contractually obligated to the university for the next academic year”, “I would be home sick”, “The First Order is literally evil”, etc.  There were eleven more people they could ask after you, but you could see by the looks on their faces that they were hoping this search would end right here.

“There’s a clause,” you began, “about what should happen to my body upon death.  I’m sure that you are under orders to include the provision, but this isn’t a particularly dangerous job, is it?”

One of the captains, a young man with wiry, prematurely grey hair, bit at his lip whilst glancing toward the older captain beside him.  The older captain, tanned in complexion and sharp featured, shot a warning grimace.

“It’s not that it’s dangerous so much as you will be working directly alongside those who are at war.  We can’t predict the nature of war or who will be affected.  I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes…”

Your eyes were glued to the contract again.  One full year upon the Starkiller base and its orbiting stations didn’t seem like that long. You’d had one year internships and residencies in the past, so it wasn’t as though you couldn’t handle the time commitment.  But you were honestly quite oblivious to what it meant to be aboard such a militarised base.  The topic of war didn’t come up much in the medical school of the university.  Hell, you had never even _heard_ of the First Order before these men had called you.

But you kept flipping to the front page and looking at the egregiously large number that would be your salary.  Plus, you would be guaranteed a publishable journal article, which seemed pretty appealing for someone trying desperately to secure a tenured position at the university.  And they would give you a semi-furnished apartment on the base with pre-paid moving costs.

Looking back up at the men, you could tell that they were waiting on baited breaths, just hoping that you would stop switching your pen from hand to hand, finger to finger, and just sign the damned thing.

 _What’s stopping me?_  Your family lived on a completely different planet.  Your friends had scattered across the galaxy after graduation.  Your apartment was growing its own unique mould in the kitchen that may or may not be sentient.  Maybe you could sublease the apartment and let someone else get eaten by the mould.  All you had was your cat beside you on the couch and a ridiculous collection of books—nothing that couldn’t move with you for this year.

Taking a deep breath, you switched the pen between your fingers and clicked it. Flipping to the last page, you signed your full name on the dotted line and scribbled in the date.  Like hitting a switch, you could feel the aura of the men grow lighter, buoyant.  They hadn’t said a damned word, but they were already celebrating.

“Right! Excellent!” the younger captain said, quickly coming over to file the contract in his binder and shaking your hand.  “Doctor, it’s a pleasure.  Truly.”

You gave a little smile and a shrug of your shoulders.  Honestly, this didn’t seem like that big of a deal to you.  “Well, it’s my pleasure to lead your research project, regardless of whether it’s for the military or not.”

The older captain nodded, also standing to shake your hand with a firm grip.  “Not many people we spoke with were willing to be so… impartial.”

“I’m not here to pick some side of a battle that has nothing to do with me.”  This was for science.  Not the First Order; not against the Resistance whom they had spoken of so poorly during the meeting. They didn’t matter.  “If I can help you understand why your soldiers die so prematurely and with the rates of dementia at their present levels, then I’m satisfied.  I’m here to answer question for the ill, nothing more.”

He nodded, giving your hand one more squeeze.  “That’s fine by us.”

The younger captain began pacing your tiny apartment, taking note of your belongings that would need to be moved.  “We’ll send out a ship nine days from now, if that’s all right.  We understand that your semester ends then?”

You nodded.  It was almost the end of the academic year, thank God.  You just needed to grade your students’ exams, and you would be on your way to a brief freedom.  Or, well, now on your way to a new job.  But same difference.

“Movers will be sent along,” he continued.  “Just box everything up for them.”

He returned to his seat and pulled out several packets of information from his binder: housing details, research outlines, long forgotten raw data, the works.  You started going through the files, only half listening as they explained the plans for you to move.  It was impossible to pay attention when you firmly realised that you had just signed a year of your life away to something completely new. Sure, it was research, which you had done plenty of in the past.  But this time, you were the outsourced researcher instead of the post-grad assistant in someone’s dingy lab.  This was definitely a step up in your career path, and the idea was almost unsettling in its positivity.  For the next few hours, even after they had left in their ship back for the Starkiller base, you could only stare off and wonder just what in the world your future now held in store for you.

**Glossary:**

Comorbidity: Having two or more diseases/disorders at the same time.  
Dementia: Cognitive impairment caused by disease or injury. The most common type is Alzheimer’s Disease, though this story will end up focusing on Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, which is the type of dementia common in footballers and those with repeated traumatic brain injuries.  
Epidemiology: The multidisciplinary study of health and disease.  
Etiology: The study of disease causation.  
Geriatrics: The study of health in older adulthood.  
Tenured position: If you are a professor, this is basically how you get to stay a professor without having someone breathing down your neck every year and threatening to make you an adjunct.

 **A/N:** This is my first attempt at writing fic that is set in the second person as well as my first attempt at writing for Star Wars. But it’s an idea that has been bouncing around in my head, so hey, why not? The first few chapters that I’ve written are super medical, because I don’t know how to separate my real life from what I write. I would apologise, but I don’t actually care. But stick around because, hey-o, Kylo Ren is going to be big in this story (you know, eventually). Also, there will be several original characters who play doctors and Storm Troopers and personnel, so hopefully you like them, too. This fic is originally posted on my tumblr: starkillerscience.


	2. Satellite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve finally moved into your new apartment on the Starkiller base’s orbiting satellite, and your day has been terrible because moving is a pain in and of itself. But wait! It gets worse before it gets better. At least you finally meet some other people on board.

Boxes. A labyrinth of boxes upon boxes tumbling over other boxes and spilling their contents onto the metal-plated floor.  And then more boxes.  Boxes on the bed.  Boxes on the tiny island of a kitchen table.  Boxes out in the hallway, because my God, what to do with all these damned boxes?

You were still holding onto your cat’s crate when you entered into your brand new apartment on the Starkiller base’s largest orbiting satellite.  It was a relief to finally get inside of your new home, because oh boy had today been shit.

First of all, your adorable (albeit quite fat and spoiled) grey and white cat, Pickles, had been so scared during the flight that he had pooped himself in the crate.  So you and four other Storm Troopers who had helped move your belongings had to deal with Pickles’ screaming as the smell of his shit wafted through the cabin.  Not the most pleasant.

Second, your sublease had fallen through, meaning that you had to move _all_ of your belongings to the base rather than just the necessary items to get through a year.  So much for the idea of leaving your furniture to be used by the temporary tenant.  But you should have predicted that your landlord would be an arse about your early termination of the rental agreement.  They always _had_ been an arse, anyway.  The mould in the kitchen having never been removed was proof enough of that.

And third, you were just tired.  Tired as can be.  So tired that you honestly contemplated curling up on the floor in your coat and just sleeping for who knows how long, because it seemed like a better option than giving Pickles the bath that he desperately needed.

You lied down on the floor, sticking a finger into the crate to see if Pickles would come near.  He hissed out a greeting.

“Well, fuck you, too, bruv,” you sighed.  You didn’t really mean it, and you told him as such a few seconds later.  “I’m just tired, Pic.”

Eventually, you opened the door of his crate into the apartment’s bathroom and started to search through a tower of boxes until you found a towel and some shampoo.  This poop wasn’t going away on its own.  After an hour of struggling with Pickles (who managed to screech so loud that a Storm Trooper had run into your apartment with the fear of someone being murdered), you finally managed to get the cat clean and wrapped securely in a towel like a kitten burrito.  A really big kitten burrito.  A _purr_ ito.

With Pickles now licking his stomach and judging you from the green, leather sofa surrounded by a fort of boxes, you finally decided that it was time to go to bed.  If you could find your bed, which, ah ha, was unsurprisingly hidden beneath several boxes full of your clothing and books.  Groaning, you moved the boxes off of the bed and plopped onto the bare mattress, not even bothering to find sheets or a blanket.  Snuggling into your winter coat, you dozed off, hoping to crack away at some of the boxes in the morning.

Of course, it was difficult to tell when exactly morning was.

The thing about being in space is that there is no daylight, obviously. It’s always dark, always a night sky full of stars in every direction because of a lack of atmosphere.  The only light was what reflected off the Starkiller base, which was decent but also happened to be on the opposite side of the satellite from your apartment.  For you, the sky was nothing but ink and starlight.

So when you finally awoke, you weren’t all too surprised to find that it was one in the afternoon of the next day.  What you _were_ surprised to find was that there was a letter that had been taped to your door.  Unfolding the paper, you began to scan through the typed text.   _Welcome… Meals served periodically in the cafeteria… General… Clinician meet and greet at 12:30pm–_ Wait.  Wait, that was an half hour ago.

You let out a string of curses as you rushed into the bathroom to fix your hair.  Where was your brush?  Packed?  Shit.  Did you have a change of clothes?  No, they were packed, too.  Shit!  You ran your fingers through your hair as quickly as possible, trying to look half way decent, and then you stumbled back into the bedroom to rummage through the first box marked ‘clothes’ that you could find.  It didn’t matter what you grabbed, so long as it didn’t smell of cat shit and sweat.  You tugged on a dark green sweater dress and a pair of boots before running like mad out of the door, much to Pickles’ surprise.

Running down the satellite hallway with the letter in hand, you tried to make your way to the meeting room where you should have been forty minutes before.  But where was it?  Damn it, you were going to look like a complete idiot, an unreliable, flaky fool on your very first day on base.  This was the opposite of what you wanted.

Passing by a few groups of Storm Troopers, you finally made your way to a main hallway that looked less like living quarters and more like a place where scientists would meet.  Door after door was made of glass rather than metal, showing the insides of dark, empty conference rooms.  They all seemed to be locked, unused.  You stopped running for a minute to catch your breath and stare down at the paper. _Conference Room 507_. You were apparently still in the 400s hallway with no idea where 507 or its hallway even was.

“Great. Just fucking great…” you sighed as you folded the paper and played with it between your fingers.  Maybe it would absorb the sweat from your palms.  Or maybe the crinkling was just the feeling you needed after realising how much you had messed up.

As you took a deep breath and tried to bring your face back to an unnatural calm so that none of the passing Storm Troopers would talk to you, a voice called your name from behind, sending you swiveling on your heels.

A tall man with red hair was walking up to you, looking serious and pressed for time.  You didn’t know who he was, but judging by the many white stripes around the sleeve of his uniform, he was higher up in command than the captains with whom you had met the week before.

“Doctor, I finally found you,” he said, voice posh and calmer than you had expected.  “You received my letter?”

You uncrumpled the piece of paper that had been on your door and held it up between two fingers.  “Unfortunately, I found it a little late.”

He nodded, giving a slight smile—probably as big of a smile as he was capable of, judging by the way he held himself so seriously, as though he must show superiority at every damned second.  “I had figured as much,” he responded.  “The meeting let out rather quickly due to a conflicting lunch conference; you didn’t miss all that much.”

He held out a hand, arm straight as he waited for you to shake his hand. Cold hands.  But a strong grip.  You had a feeling that everyone aboard would be giving strong handshakes, and you squeezed his back. Maybe he would think you were stronger or something.  You were often pretty good at fooling people into thinking you weren’t a nervous, self-deprecating wreck half the time, so it was worth a try.

“I’m General Hux, commander of Starkiller base as well as its satellites.”

Instantly, your eyes got wide.  Shit, you’d actually heard of General Hux!  His name had been littered throughout the files the captains had given to you, and you knew from passing that he was a big deal.  A _very_ big deal.  And here it had been _his_ letter than you had basically ignored all morning.

“I really do apologise for my tardiness,” you babbled, starting to explain your fatigue and Pickles and the boxes that had taken over your life.  Hux shook his head and gave a wave of his hand.  Somehow, he didn’t seem that upset over the whole debacle.

“There are worse things,” he replied, starting to guide you down another hall.  “I will admit to having bigger problems aboard than you having slept through a meeting.”  Hux gave a glance down a hallway that was bustling with uniformed personnel and Storm Troopers. “Speaking of which…”

He grimaced as a figure in black marched his way across a section of the hallway, carrying himself tall and menacingly as he spoke with a silver-clad Storm Trooper.  The two were obviously arguing at the end of the hall, and Hux rolled his eyes.

“You will have to excuse me,” he groaned.  Pointing you down another hall (conveniently, the 500s hallway that you had been searching for previously), he gave you a forced smile.  “Dr Talia Minoross should still be in 507 if you would like to meet our resident neurologist. Until next time.”

Turning, Hux began a stressed run toward the arguing figures, leaving you at a circular crossroad where several hallways merged together under a large, metallic dome.

Well, at least he didn’t seem mad at you; things could be worse.  Rolling your shoulders back and giving yourself a little pep-talk, you made your way down the 500s hallway to find a lone woman in room 507.  She was statuesque even as she leaned over a pile of papers, her thick, mahogany curls falling over her shoulder.  Glancing up as you walked into the room, she gave a smile and stood to greet you.

“Talia,” she said, introducing herself and shaking your hand—another strong grip.  Though she seemed more bubbly than anyone else you had met aboard, which was a bit of a relief.  “You must be our new epidemiologist.”

“Etiologist—I study disease causation,” you corrected, though it didn’t matter.  There wasn’t that much of a difference anyway.  “I’ve learnt that you’re a neurologist?”

She nodded.  “Cognitive neuroscientist.  I’m sure that we’ll be working closely together.”  Waving you further into the room, she showed you the massive stack of papers on a long table and handed you a few X-rays to hold as she organised the mess.  “Put those against the light and just tell me what you see.”

 _What?_ You had to admit that you hadn’t much experience with X-rays of any kind.  Raw data ready to be statistically manipulated was more your game, but you didn’t say anything as you held the first scan up to the ceiling’s florescent lighting.  The image showed two brains side by side, one looking no different than anything you had seen in text books over the years and the other…

“Well, it makes sense why the captains were so worried about the Storm Troopers,” you mused, tracing a finger along the edges of the second brain.  It was half the size of the former and riddled with black speckles where the brain had literally died.  “Lewy Bodies?”

Talia shook her head.  “No.  It doesn’t seem vascular, either.  It makes me wonder if there’s something environmental to cause it.”

That was two ideas shot down. A brain didn’t get into this kind of devastated shape without something very serious going on, and you tried to think back on classes that had talked about brain injury, though the information you had been taught was… _lacking_. There was a reason you were needed for research, after all.

“How old was the person in the second scan?” you asked.  The brain looked like that of a 90 year old who had been demented for two decades, and so you nearly spat when Talia responded that the scan was from a 36 year old.  “Shit…”

“Yeah.” Talia plucked the X-ray from your fingers and switched it with another.  “Same story on this one, too.  Thirty nine, male, Storm Trooper, no other health problems aside from debilitating memory loss and migraines.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with his past when compared to any other Trooper.  And yet, BAM!  Half his brain mass, gone.  It’s like it disintegrated.”  She shook her head, hands balled up on her hips.  “I’ve been studying this for the past three months and still don’t get it.”

She didn’t seem frustrated by not having found any answers, though.  If anything, Talia seemed to be the type who lived for this kind of fuckery.  A true nerd at heart.

“You wouldn’t believe the prevalence rate of dementia onboard, though,” Talia continued.  “Twelve percent of Troopers in their thirties, sixteen percent when in their forties, and the numbers just keep going up.  The norm is less than one percent for all age groups under sixty five.  So it’s no wonder why the First Order has been so upset about the whole thing.  They don’t know why it’s happening, and they’re losing a lot of good soldiers.”

You set the X-ray down on the table and took a seat in front of Talia’s work.  It seemed to make sense now why you had been offered a full year to research the subject—really, you had initially thought that a year was a pretty long time to gather information about the Troopers’ health.  But a problem like this was going to take time.  And money, which apparently the First Order had plenty of, judging on your salary.

“This is one helluva mystery,” Talia mused, leaning against a dry erase board that had been covered with tight cursive until her back erased half of it.  “But are you game?  I could use someone with your background to do some digging—interview Troopers, watch what they’re doing during training and whatnot.  You know, someone to observe with a fresh pair of eyes.”  She pointed at her own eyes, hazel and surrounded by wrinkles caused by years of laughing and squinting.  For most likely being in her late thirties, she really looked quite good.  It was only her eyes that gave away her age.

Slowly, you nodded.  “Fresh eyes… Yes, I’m ready for the challenge.”

Talia gave a nod, grinning from ear to ear.  “Hell yeah; bring on the science.”

**Glossary:**

Cognitive Neuroscientist: people who geek out about brains. They may study anything from memory to neuro-degenerative diseases to dementia to seizure disorders to all kinds of other neurological-based diseases. Seriously, though, they geek out about brains a lot.<br />  
Dementia of the Lewy Body type: a form of dementia caused by plaques in the brain called Lewy Bodies. Causes a type of dementia where vivid hallucinations can occur; new research supports that it is often comorbid with Alzheimer’s Disease. But don’t quote me on that, because this research is new enough that it’s still argued by my neuro colleagues.<br />  
Vascular Dementia: Dementia caused by brain damage due to strokes. Can be minor or severe, depending on the severity of the clot within the brain. Often causes a sharp decrease in a specific mental function with each new stroke. Also often comorbid with other forms of dementia.

 **A/N:** I am Neko Atsume trash. Also, brains are really cool. Anyway, Kylo shows up in the next chapter and then things get real in chapter four.


	3. Lovely Brains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Talia Minoross decides to show you around the Starkiller Satellite Base before letting you unpack your apartment with the help of a few Storm Troopers. You happen to meet a very peculiar man dressed all in black and with a mask; you think he looks stupid but keep this to yourself.

Gulping down the bile that had begun to fill your mouth, you allowed Dr Talia Minoross to place a grey, shriveled brain into your gloved hands. It was lighter in weight than you had expected, but then again, Talia had warned you that this brain would be deceiving. It was small, much smaller than anything you had seen during anatomy courses.

“Only 708 grams; half the matter turned to jelly,” Talia hummed to herself as she reached for another brain—this one nearly twice the size as the first and looking quite plump and healthy. “Compared to 1321 grams of this oh so nice forty two year old who so graciously gave me his brain for research.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay, so he was gracious in signing a waiver of a body donation should he die during service. Same, same.”

It was your fourth day on board, and already, you took this as par for the course when it came to Talia. She was unashamed of her enthusiasm. You, on the other hand, weren't necessarily ashamed of your own geekiness—your massive piles of unpacked books were evidence of such—but your geekiness just wasn't so much about brains. Brains were... well, a bit disgusting. But you held the shriveled brain anyway, waiting for Talia to give you further instructions.

Thus far, this seemed to be the job. Meetings with doctors in the mornings, hands-on (literally) research with Talia in the early afternoon, and the rest of the day for you to conduct your own research. Even with Talia slaving away over brains and MRI scans, _you_ were the leader of this study, which seemed odd. But at the same time, Talia's attention span was often at zero when it came to anything other than brains, so perhaps it was for the best that you took charge.

Under you were two research assistants, both of whom were fairly useless. Byrt Haldo was a young researcher of social gerontology, which really didn't help you since you were studying fairly young Storm Troopers. For the most part, you had him enter countless streams of data into a spread sheet. It would keep him busy for a while. And then there was the other research assistant, Mickella Treeahl, who had a flighty nervousness to her that was nearly insufferable. You quickly learned that it was for the best that Mickella be kept in a tiny office where she could read through journal articles all day and send you summaries of the information for a literature review. Talia apparently despised her.

And then there were the other doctors on board: a general physician named Amena and her aides to care for the Storm Troopers, an ancient psychiatrist who still believed that lobotomies were an “all right thing”, and a former Storm Trooper who worked in the medical ward even though he had never once stepped foot into a medical school. Nobody was quite sure how he had gotten the job, but he was burly and hot-tempered enough that nobody asked.

Oh, and then there were the brains. _Lots_ of brains. Talia had collected brains from just about every Storm Trooper she possibly could, and all were lined up in her office, swimming in their little baths of formaldehyde. In a deep freezer, she had more brains. Or, well, _slices_ of brains. A tiny slice from each and every brain was neatly labeled, and she showed you some of the slices under a microscope. You nodded your head at them, blank-faced, as she babbled on and on about the structures of plaques and tangles and amyloid beta and whatever else—you had no clue. Pretending to follow along seemed like your best bet. You just had to wait for the clock to strike two, and then she would break for a meal and let you be on your way.

Except that when the clock struck two, and you were ripping off your gloves, she had other plans.

“How much do you know about the Satellite?” she asked while washing the latex glove residue from her hands.

You shrugged. “Not much. I know how to get from my hallway to here and the 400s hallway.” And you had managed to find the cafeteria, thank goodness. There were still too many boxes in your tiny kitchen, not to mention no food in the refrigerator yet. So the cafeteria had been a saving grace. Plus, if you went during slow hours, you could get some much needed alone time at one of the tables in the dining hall's many alcoves. There, you could read and finally think through the decision you had made in coming on board for the next year. “I figure that I'll learn where everything else is in time.”

Talia shook her head. “Nah, start learning today. I'll show you around a bit, get you good and lost so that you can build a map.” She tapped at her head, referencing a mental map. What a fucking nerd.

You rolled your eyes but agreed. Eventually, you would need to navigate around the Satellite (and even the Starkiller base down below) by yourself so that you could conduct interviews and observe the Troopers. Now was as good a time as any to begin learning about the Satellite.

She began to lead you down various halls that connected together, explaining that this particular satellite was shaped like an eight-pronged asterisk that had been stretched in the 100s hallway to include a central command room at the end. Each hallway also had multiple floors and various twists and turns around different rooms and stations. It was complicated. _Very_ complicated. But maybe taking a few walks on your own would do the trick.

Talia showed you the cafeteria, which you had already found, as well as a pantry where you could purchase food for your kitchenette. The Troopers and most staff only used the cafeteria, but anyone who was contracted onto the station (or who were captains and generals) had a kitchenette in their apartments. You mentally logged the pantry's location. Hopefully they would have tea; you could kill for a good cup of tea whilst unpacking.

Eventually, the two of you went down the 100s hallway, which grew darker as you neared the command centre—a smart move, considering that the entire centre was a dimly lit room made up of glass that looked out into the darkness of space and Starkiller base. Your eyes adjusted to the change in light quickly, and you watched as Storm Troopers ran to and fro amidst the black-clad personnel at various computers and stations.

For a few seconds, the two of you just stood out of the way and watched the command centre. The blinking lights, the holograms, the computer screens flashing with new information; it was a series of never-ending tasksrunning in perfect coordination.

You glanced around and immediately recognised General Hux from behind—no one else had that colour of red hair aboard. Beside him was another figure. You had seen him before, seen that man dressed all in black, though it had been from afar last time. You hadn't seen his helmet then, but when he turned around, you could feel your pupils widen at the sight. A menacing, black and silver mask covered the man's face and distorted his voice into a low, metallic rumble as he argued with General Hux.

Hux was following behind the masked man like a nervous dog, ready to bite at his ankles out of pure spite, but he gave a pause upon seeing you and Talia near the entrance to the hallway. The man in black paused as well with muscular arms folded over his chest. You couldn't see his eyes behind the mask's glossy black visor, but you had the feeling that he was staring directly at you.

The hair had risen on the back of your neck. Yes. He was _definitely_ looking at you. You could feel it.

“Doctors,” Hux greeted with a nod of his head. That same angered seriousness had drenched his face, but you could tell that he was trying his hardest to not look like he had just been arguing (and losing) against the intimidating man beside him. “Everything is going well, I assume?” He specifically looked at you.

You gave a nod as Talia answered that you both were fine. “Just showing her around,” she mentioned.

Hux gave a rare, honest smile toward Talia before straightening his posture and motioning toward the silent man who still seemed to be staring at you. “Excellent, and I don't believe that you have met Kylo Ren. Ren, this is our newest researcher on base.”

Kylo Ren gave the smallest of nods, and like a snap, he broke contact and was facingtoward Hux. Or at least you figured that he was no longer looking at you, which was a relief. Something irked you about the encounter. It wasn't fear or the nervousness of meeting new people. People were just people; they didn't tend to make you nervous. But just that _feeling_ of unflinching staring was confusing. How did you even _know_ that he was looking at you? He could have been staring down the hallway past you for all you could see. But you knew better; you trusted your instincts when it came to other people. They were predictable. They made sense. It's why you found studying them to be so easy.

Only a few seconds of awkward silence passed before Kylo Ren motioned to the same silver-clad Storm Trooper from a few days before who had just crossed the command centre to hand Hux a typed note. Quickly, the Storm Trooper followed Kylo, and the two left down the hallway. Hux still stood there, grimacing at the note before crunching it in his hands and shoving it into his pocket.

“Bad news?” Talia asked, raising an eyebrow toward him. She seemed calm. Too calm. Almost playful.

Hux groaned. “Isn't it always?”

“See you all at dinner?”

“If I even eat tonight,” Hux replied with a shrug. And then he was following Kylo and the Trooper down the hall, looking as though he would grind his teeth until they shattered.

You glanced over at Talia, who seemed to be grinning whilst slowly shaking her head back and forth.

“So, you and Hu--”

“Nope!” Talia swiveled on her toes and turned down the hall. You followed behind, feeling pretty damn smug that you had just discovered something. Or maybe the remnants of something; you weren't one hundred percent sure on this one.

Talia was marching down the hall, taking a few turns here and there that somehow lead back to the 500s hallway. Maybe you would understand this spiderweb of a satellite in time, but today was not that day, and Talia was no longer bothering to explain where exactly you were.

“Will you tell me what that was?” you asked. “At some point?”

Talia bit her thin lower lip, mulling over your question. “No promises.”

“I don't accept promises, anyway,” you replied. Promises were only good for harlequin romance stories and Valentine's Day cards.

Talia grinned as she turned back toward the 507 conference room that connected to her office full of brains. “Fair enough.” Talia was completely inside before she rushed back out, popping her head outside of the glass door. “Actually, come to dinner tonight. Seven thirty. The third alcove in the cafeteria—the one that looks like it's reserved for the 'cool kids' or something. It won't give you any answers, but it'll be worth your time.”

You didn't reply but rolled your eyes, making Talia snort out a laugh as she ventured back to her office to finally eat a snack.

So that was how you happened upon dinner plans that night--and what would turn out to be almost every night over the next few weeks at the most intimidating table in all the galaxy.

 

**Glossary:**

 

 _Gerontology_ : The study of aging through a social lens rather than strictly medical (like in geriatrics). Also my master's degree. Talk to me about old people.

 

 **A/N:** I aspire to be Talia when I grow up. Also, bonus points to anyone who gets the Regina Spektor reference.


	4. Are You All Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin to settle into life on board, getting used to the groove of research and Trooper shenanigans. Acquaintances become something akin to friends, though you're already becoming frustrated with General Hux's ability to hide pertinent information from just about everyone—particularly you. But you're distracted by another medical mystery on board as well as the angry yells and crashes coming from behind a lightsaber-destroyed door.

The third alcove wasn't inherently an intimidating place. Nothing was different in comparison to the other alcoves shoved into the metal interior of the cafeteria, and yet, you knew without a doubt that this particular alcove and its non-assuming, metal table had most likely seen some of the most serious conversations in the entire First Order.

Or so you had initially believed.

The first evening that you had dined there had been... an experience. You had arrived early and sat down with a sandwich before anyone else had arrived. Praying that Talia would join you soon, you were immediately let down to find the silver Storm Trooper stand in front of your table with a tray in hand. They peered down at you through the slit in their helmet, head slightly cocked to the side as though you were a strange rodent that had somehow found its way into a proper dining establishment. You managed a small wave of your hand while trying to swallow a bite of your sandwich.

“Dr Minoross invited me to sit here,” you explained. The Storm Trooper shrugged their shoulders and sat down across from you. Their tray of food was a mountain in comparison to yours, and they started to sort through the items.

“Not surprising; she rarely asks before extending invitations,” a female voice answered you.

You were taken back for a moment. It wasn't as though you hadn't met other female Storm Troopers, but this Trooper in particular was larger than most of the men you had encountered. Watching her carefully, you sat in shock as she removed her helmet to reveal a head of light blonde hair that wisped down to her cheeks. She grinned cockily for just a moment, stopping her food sorting and glancing at you.

“You're not the first to be surprised,” she said. “And you won't be the last.”

You actually felt slightly embarrassed; usually you were more perceptive.

“Really, Phasma, being dramatic again?” A familiar voice chimed in behind you, and General Hux sat down at a seat to your right with a plate in hand.

She rolled her eyes whilst already biting into a dinner roll. “Must you have the audacity to call me dramatic as your trash heap of a Sith lord is aboard?”

Hux groaned and positioned his chair so that his back was to her, which sent Phasma grinning to herself as she kept eating. You weren't in on the joke but laughed at her boldness, which didn't seem to please Hux all that much.

“I like her,” Phasma mentioned. “She actually appreciates my humour.”

“If _that's_ what you call humour.”

You enjoyed watching them continue to bicker for a few minutes until Talia and another doctor joined you, both already deep in their own conversation. You recognised the other doctor as the lead physician for the Storm Troopers, Dr Amena Sayeed, who immediately sat beside Captain Phasma to trade various items of food with her.

Watching the dynamic between the four of them was something that you hadn't seen since... well, high school. Watching the inner workings of a clique as they operated in their own strange social intricacies was like the ultimate anthropological study.

Okay. Not ultimate. But at least you found it interesting.

You had expected them to be so somber in their discussion—that they would be speaking of war, their soldiers, logistics. Instead, you heard two dick jokes, the retelling of Talia's drunken adventures on her home planet, and six thinly-veiled references to Hux's less-than-stellar love life. It turned out that they were... _people_. Just actual, possibly close to normal, _people._ And to be honest, it was a relief to hear some casual conversation that didn't have to do with brains. Bless Talia, but if you had to hear another word about neurofibrillary tangles today, you were going to lose it.

You found yourself comfortable with them. Comfortable with the joking, the bickering between Hux and nearly everyone else, the strange rumours about other Storm Troopers. It all seemed natural. And as the days went on and you decided to join them more, you found yourself being included. Phasma in particular found you interesting. She asked about your background, about your opinions of her troops (opinions that you really hadn't formed yet), and what you thought of living on the satellite. You divulged as much as possible, eager to please just about anyone so long as it meant building relationships for this year-long stay.

Of course, you learned within a few days that Phasma and Hux couldn't always be around for these dinners. Phasma in particular had to lead her troops into various skirmishes across the solar system, which would send her disappearing for days at a time. Meanwhile, Hux was often busy working with Kylo Ren and had a tendency to miss meals, which seemed to annoy Talia more than it should have. It was on these days that their table stood empty, no one wanting to meet unless everyone was together. And on those particular days, you scribbled a list of items to fetch from the pantry upon a dry erase board in your kitchen and decided to finally eat dinner in your own apartment.

A few Storm Troopers had helped you construct your disassembled furniture and unpack, and the apartment finally looked like an actual home after a week. Granted, there were still boxes in the living room, but they were mostly full of books anyway. You eventually pulled all of the books out and stacked them on the floor, leaning against the living room wall by your easy chair. Pickles wasn't the most pleased at losing his many box forts, but you just wanted it to look like home. And home meant books. Books everywhere.

Holy hell, when had you amassed this many books, though?

Oh well.

Your days went by much the same. Meetings. Brains. Research. Collecting summaries of data from Byrt and Mickella. Shadowing Dr Amena as she treated Storm Troopers who had returned to the base after missions. Watching the Storm Troopers at work. Attempting to initiate dialogue with the Storm Troopers (a difficult task, as most of them were unaccustomed to real honest to God conversation). You felt a groove starting to be worn and embraced it.

Soon, it was two weeks down. Fifty more to go.

With each passing day, you seemed to gather more research, which was growing in a pile beside your living room couch, though you still had no guesses when it came to the Storm Troopers' mystery dementia. Was there something environmental rattling the brains of all these Troopers? Maybe, but you sure as hell didn't know what it was. Not yet, at least.

And Talia was suddenly not much help. After giving you all the data she possessed and forcing you through a crash course into neuroscience, you were basically on your own. Plus, she was suddenly occupied with another medical mystery on board that Dr Amena had consulted her on. Apparently, there was a Trooper going out of his damned mind down in the medical ward—bad enough to warrant metal restraints to his hospital bed after having literally ripped through a set of canvas safety restraints. Talia had confided that she and Dr Amena were at a loss and had asked you to visit him.

“Not like I think you're going to solve this all the sudden,” she added. “But you should check by him after dinner—scope it out. I've never seen anything like it.”

“What's wrong with him?”

Talia pulled out a sheet from a messy pile of papers on her office desk. It had a ring of formaldehyde on the corner where a brain specimen had been used as a paper weight.

_Extreme paranoia._

_Delusions._

_Full body numbness._

_Schizo-affective disorder??_

_Short-term memory loss._

_Migraines._

“Talia, I honestly know nothing about psychiatric disorders.” It wasn't as though you weren't mildly intrigued by the Trooper. Who knew, maybe his memory loss was connected to the bigger picture of your study. But you just didn't see how you would be of any help. But that didn't phase Talia, nor Dr Amena who ended up proposing the same idea of you paying a visit. So you resigned yourself to having an early dinner with General Hux before setting off to the medical ward.

“You do know,” Hux explained between bites of his dinner, “that they asked you to see him because they honestly believe that you'll find the answer.”

You snorted your disbelief. The past twenty minutes had been spent discussing the Trooper's case as the two of you ate, and you had quickly come to the realisation that everyone was in on some conspiracy to have _you_ figure this out. Yeah, you were a doctor specialising in the _cause_ of disease, but let's be real, this was pretty out there.

“They're as crazy as that Trooper, then.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “You have an uncanny knack at understanding people; surely you have realised this.”

You nodded; you had been told countless times before. It was just an obscure talent, the same way that some people were good at sports or some people could eat fourteen turkey legs in one sitting. It wasn't something you thought about all that often.

Hux was giving you one of those serious, incredulous stares that seemed to happen when he was mulling over a particularly aggravating thought. It was as though a question was beating its way around his skull that he was trying to stifle lest you figured it out. It's not like you could read his mind, but something was there.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Save it for another day.” And all of a sudden, he was standing up and taking his nearly finished tray of food toward the trash. You followed behind, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. Maybe it was _Hux_ who should be studied right now.

“Best of luck with the Trooper,” he mumbled before marching off, no doubt toward the command centre. You stood there for a moment by the rubbish bins, hands balled up into fists on your hips. Whatever Hux's problem was, you'd figure it out eventually, just like every other ridiculous mystery that was being thrown your way.

Sighing, you started to make your way toward the medical ward, which took up a large section of the 300s hallway.

The 300s hallway was a rather quiet wing of the base, reserved mostly for Trooper bunkers and the medical ward. But this evening, it was particularly silent. Usually you at least saw _some_ Troopers walking by, but it was entirely empty save. The only sound for a few minutes was of your echoing footsteps until you took a turn and heard an unfamiliar roaring whoosh and sizzling crackle in a room ahead.

It was a sound unlike anything else—a low hum that made the very air snap and crack with heat, like a massive fire that had been compressed and only barely contained. And then there was a shout. Another. An angry, tormented yell as you heard the crackling and loud crunches of metal splitting and sizzling.

You approached slowly, letting your footsteps be masked by the crashes and increasing yells. Ahead was a metal door, completely sliced through and melted along its edges. Some of the metal was still glowing orange, and smoke was escaping in small swirls. Sparks were showering out of the room, and you leaned forward from the far side of the hall to peer inside.

You weren't sure what you had expected, but what you saw certainly wasn't it. Within the room was Kylo Ren, his black coat and hood swinging behind him as he violently beat a computer station with a brightly glowing, fire-red saber. The station was obliterated. Shards of metal had flown across the room, and electronic shrapnel covered the floor and floated as dust through the electrified air.

You stood there, not able to tear your eyes from the sight. Even as he slowed down and abruptly switched off the lightsaber, his anger was still a powerful force that seemed to fill every cell and fibre within you. His back was heaving with each breath, arms quivering and flexing out of pure rage. Never before had you seen such a display of violence, of power and inner struggle and unadulterated fury. It should have scared you, should have sent you scampering down the hall to the medical ward. But instead, you were transfixed, trying to understand what you had just seen a few metres in front of you.

Lips slightly parted, you heard your voice before even realising that you had spoken up. “Are you all right?” Such a simple question. Probably a _stupid_ question.

Kylo's masked face had suddenly turned to face you with a surprised jerk.

And that's when you felt the crushing of your windpipe, the feeling of a set of hands on your neck when none were present. It was a snap, an explosion of pain, and your fingers clawed instinctively at your neck, head pressed up to face the ceiling as you choked. Pupils dilated and fluttering, you saw him, saw his gloved hand stretched forward from several paces away with muscles tensed as you felt your entire body being dragged in his direction.

 

**Glossary:**

_Neurofibrillary Tangles:_ These are basically the proteins that gather in the brain and kill off other cells in Alzheimer's disease. Think of them as nets that swim around the brain and block the healthy cells' nutrition until they starve to death.

 

 **A/N:** One of my best friends is a charge nurse on the neurology floor of one of the US's best hospitals, and she literally had a 22 year old dude rip through canvas restraints during a bout of severe encephalitis. Some of my colleagues worked on his case as well as were consulted for Susannah Cahalan's, who wrote the book 'Brain on Fire' about her experience. It's an excellent read about anti-NMDA-receptor autoimmune encephalitis, and I highly recommend checking it out, even if you aren't a neuroscience nerd.


	5. Seven Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first encounter with the Force happens to be Kylo Ren's hand around your neck, neither of you quite understanding how this has happened. Kylo recognises the gravity of his actions and drops you, only to cause worse injury. Confused and angry, he flees, leaving you in the hands of two Storm Troopers to escort you to the medical ward.

_Can't breathe!_

_Can't move!_

Your fingers were still clawing at your throat, meeting weakly with the strong hand that was now wrapped around your neck. You could feel Kylo Ren's fingers against the sides of your neck, squeezing as though you were a toy to be broken. Only a few seconds had passed since he had dragged you across the hallway and into the room with him, but it had already felt like an eternity. Your pulse was racing, blood pounding through your veins in a desperate attempt to get to your brain. But Kylo Ren's strength was greater, and white dots had quickly appeared in your vision, fading in and out like twinkling stars.

Your fingers felt numb, then your hands, then your arms. More seconds stretched on like years, and you felt your arms fall to their sides as though they were no longer a part of your body. Your toes were off the ground, though it was hard to tell; they were numb, too. All at once, your hearing began to fade, as though your ears had been boxed in. It was like all the sound of the world had been shut off.

And that's when your vision faded away.

You were in an in between state of consciousness—where your body seemed to have disappeared and yet you were succinctly aware of every single thing that was occurring around you. You still knew that Kylo Ren's hand was around your neck, still squeezing.

But you were also aware that something had changed. The squeezing hadn't grown any stronger for a few seconds, and it was as though you were simply being held by the neck, just inches off the ground like a child's doll. That's when you came to realise that Kylo Ren was just as motionless as you were, just as fearful, just as confused by the sudden minute of attacking you.

Suddenly, you felt yourself move through space and collapse in a heap upon the metal floor, your head hitting hard against a partially destroyed computer monitor. You gasped in a breath, choking and sputtering as you lied tangled on the ground. A rush of blood had poured back into your head, and a roaring wave of sound re-entered your perception. Your vision was still blacked out, and you couldn't feel your arms or feet, but that sound. Damn it, it was louder than a space ship, louder than anything you had heard in your life. Was it just the drumming of blood in your veins? Dear God, was this what it felt like to pass out? What a terrible experience!

You could feel a hand at your shoulder, slightly shaking you. But all you could manage was a groan in response. Your head was pounding, and you could feel hot, sticky blood in your hair from where your head had crashed against the monitor. Somehow, you manged to swing a hand toward your head that drew away covered in blood. You could smell it. Smell the iron, the salt of sweat. It mingled with the smoke in the air and burning metal. You felt as though you would vomit right then and there.

Vision began to come back to you, slowly and tunnel-like. You could see Kylo Ren a mere breath away, masked face twitching this way and that as he took in the sight of you.

“Damn it!” he yelled as he pulled your blood-covered hand away from your face. He let out a hiss as he held onto your face with both hands, turning your head to the side to see the split in your scalp. He cursed again in that low, mechanical rumble from his helmet's voice manipulator.

By this point, you really did not understand what was happening at all. You knew that you were hurt. You knew that it was Kylo Ren's fault. But beyond that, your world seemed to be made of only pain, pounding drums in your ears, and the horrible tingling of your limbs as oxygenated blood rushed back to screaming cells.

You tried to swat his hands away from your head.

“Don't!” you hissed.

He still held your head for a moment more and ripped the hood from his helmet to stuff beneath your head. You didn't want that either and tried to pull the burnt-smelling fabric away, only for your head to thud back onto the metal floor. Spitting mad, you tried to roll over, get away, anything.

Kylo Ren groaned from beneath his helmet and picked you up, regardless of your wiggling to be let go. He carefully set you on a work bench that was attached to the metal wall on the opposite side of the room, far enough away that there weren't any circuit boards or metal chips to dig into you.

“Stay here,” he commanded.

What, like you were going to be _able_ to go anywhere? You could ring _his_ neck right about now.

You rolled to your side again, feeling nauseous and dizzy as your head pounded. Again, he was trying to shove that damned hood under your head, and you slapped his gloved hand away. Kylo stood there for a moment, hands held before him as though he didn't quite know what to do. There was a hesitation to his posture, mingling with the still present anger that clung to his every move. He seemed... hurt.

You didn't fucking care.

“Go away!” you spat, bringing your tingling legs to your chest so that you could lie there in the foetal position.

He took a step back but pointed at you with a snarl. “I'm not leaving you here.”

And yet, he then swiftly marched out of the room.

Okay, so much for not being left alone.

You closed your eyes, wanting to avoid the florescent lights of the room. And you wanted to block out the pain that was only growing sharper as the seconds wore on. What the hell had been his problem? You were furious, confused, freezing, and most likely very concussed. Did anyone else even know to come find you? Would you be left here to keep bleeding indefinitely?

 _Shit_... You tried getting up and felt everything sway around you. Your head fell down into Kylo's hood, which was wet with blood. Scrunching your eyes closed to block out the light, you buried your face into the hideous black cloth, not knowing what to do with yourself.

But you wouldn't have to wait for long.

Maybe it was a couple of minutes—you weren't quite sure—but two Storm Troopers had run into the room, one still fully in uniform but with his helmet off to reveal a black complexion and short frizzy hair and the other out of his armour entirely and in what must have been pyjamas.

“Ma'am, we are taking you to the medical ward,” the uniformed Trooper said as he and the other Trooper started to lift you from the bench.

 _What?_ Somehow, this confused you. Then again, that was a sign of a concussion, right? Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the room and back into the hallway, where both of the Storm Troopers began to power-walk toward the medical ward. You closed your eyes again to block out the light. Everything felt cold, save for the blood that was running down your head, your neck, and now soaking into your sweater. It was like an out of body experience, except a lot less mystical and lot more shitty.

Time seemed to pass both far too slowly and also faster than reason would have allowed. You found yourself on a cot in the medical ward, Dr Amena's hands already at your scalp as she cleaned the blood from your hair. A cold, sizzling liquid was drenched over the split on your scalp, and you let out a yell as it stung. And then there was the prick of a needle weaving heavy stitching thread through the wound. You clenched your eyes shut through all of it, grinding your teeth and letting tears escape onto your cheeks and drip down your nose and chin.

From the entrance of the medical ward, you could hear voices rising and falling, shouting maybe. It was difficult to tell from behind a partition and in another room, but you definitely recognised General Hux's voice in the clash. The other voices were unfamiliar. Maybe the two Storm Troopers? Wait, had the Storm Troopers actually existed or been a figment of your imagination? How had you _actually_ gotten to the medical ward? Why did nothing make sense right now?

Dr Amena had ducked in front of you, her hooded scarf resting on her shoulders as she shined a light into your eyes and watched your pupils restrict.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked, voice calm.

“Kylo Ren,” was all you managed to mumble.

“Well, yes, I could tell as much by the bruising on your neck,” she sighed. Amena clicked the light off, and you clenched your eyes shut again. “You'll be staying over night for observation.”

You would have protested, but honestly, you were too tired and nauseated to make any complaints. You could hear her adjust her hooded scarf and walk out of the room on clicking heels toward the raised voices. They quieted as she entered, listening to her soft, low voice. Eventually, you heard the Storm Troopers leave and hoped that this would mean a period of quiet. Noise hurt almost as much as light.

“She's in room two,” you heard Amena say.

_No, oh my God, do not send anyone back here!_

But Hux was behind the partition and leaning in front of you within seconds. “I am so terribly sorry for this!” he apologised, sounding more annoyed than sympathetic. “Ren's anger... I am so sorry.”

You didn't want to talk but mumbled out a reply. “Why are _you_ apologising?”

Hux was taken aback for a moment and stood to pace back and forth for a few seconds. “It is because Ren is under my control. You should have been warned to avoid him.”

_Yeah; that would have been nice._

“Please do accept my apology on his behalf. It won't happen again.”

“Have _him_ come apologise,” you spat.

Hux let out a small, angry laugh. “You would be more likely to have a Rathtar become your friend than to have Ren apologise for his outbursts.”

“Then tell him he's an arse.”

Even with your eyes shut, you could tell that Hux was smiling at that. He was silent for a few second, slowly making his way to exit your room before replying. “I will, actually.”

_Good._

And then you were finally left with golden silence and darkness.

 

 **A/N:** FYI, this is a super accurate portrayal of what it is like to pass out, in case you were wondering. If you happen to be writing about a character losing consciousness or getting a concussion or having any kind of tachycardia, hit me up. I've been there too many times to count and often try to write about the experience from a physical standpoint. Also, I s2G, this is not going to be an abusive ship. Kylo fucked up, but he knows he fucked up. I'm all about a slow build and redemption arc.


	6. Concussed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your unfortunate run in with a furious Kylo Ren and an over-night stay at the medical ward, you are sent home to nurse off the effects of your concussion. But it turns out that Kylo Ren isn't quite finished with you yet.

There were a few things that you learned first hand that night about concussions that were never taught in medical school. First, the nausea was way worse than what you could have ever imagined. You vomited twice but spent at least an hour hovering over the rubbish bin beside your bed, just hoping that you would eventually not be so nauseated. You were also very confused. Not confused in that cutesy way portrayed by the ditzy heroines of novels, but confused in a manic way that made you question what was happening at every other moment, not know what was appropriate for your body in its pain-riddled condition, slightly hallucinate that the ceiling tiles were getting closer, and not quite remember the order of events that had just happened.

Eventually, you fell into a deep sleep only to be awoken by shouts down the hall from the ill Storm Trooper whom you were originally supposed to see. So much for that. Life could be pretty damned unpredictable.

By morning, you still felt terrible, but Dr Amena released you. No work for a few days, plenty of rest, stop by each day for a check-up, and don't touch your stitches. Easy enough. You were just happy to get to leave and sleep in your own bed.

A Storm Trooper escorted you to your apartment, and you shooed him off when you got near the door. It wasn't as though you were upset about him helping you, but you wanted your independence back as quickly as possible. He gave a small salute and turned away as you fished for your keys in your pocket. Just another few minutes, and you could wash the blood from your hair, feed Pickles, and plop into bed to sleep like the dead.

You opened your door, expecting to see Pickles run to greet you, but instead you didn't hear a sound, didn't see him at all. You walked in, hand searching for a light switch that was just a few steps inside.

“Pic?” you called, fingers still trying to find the switch. You found it, and in a second, the kitchen's dome light had turned on.

And directly in front of you was Kylo Ren.

You screamed, stumbling back into the closed door.

“Don't be alarmed,” he said, voice still muffled by that awful helmet.

“K... Kylo Ren?”

He was holding out his gloved hands to show that they were empty, non-threatening. Or non-threatening to anyone who didn't know that he could somehow use those hands to strangle you from across the room. You folded your arms over your chest, taking a step forward to face him.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” you demanded.

“Listen,” he growled.

“No.” You pointed toward the door, stance firm. Kylo Ren was the last person whom you wanted to see in your apartment.

He stood there, just a few feet before you, and looked as though he would go ahead and take a step forward, but instead, his hands reached up to his helmet and clicked a hidden button at his jaw. The black and silver helmet made a series of clinks, allowing the front portion to slide slightly forward. All at once, Kylo Ren had pulled the helmet from his head and was holding it in both hands against his stomach.

You had to admit that he wasn't at all what you had expected. His face was pale, long, with large, expressive features. Dark, wild waves framed his face and matched the brown eyes that were staring almost _pleadingly_ before you. He was young—not much older than you.

For some reason, this all just infuriated you more. You pointed at the door again.

“I mean it.”

Kylo couldn't meet your eyes now that the helmet was off, and he stared over at your refrigerator, at your table covered in papers that Pickles had ruffled through, at anything other than _you_.

His voice was low but soft enough to not seem threatening. “I came to apologise.”

“Really?” You had your hands on your waist, a hip jutted to the side. With a little wave of your hand, you gave him the go ahead.

He nodded, looking more and more agitated before you. “Sorry.” It was short, quiet. But it was an apology.

Glancing at you for only a second, he then pulled the helmet back over his head and clicked a switch at the bottom to lock it into place. Swiftly, he walked past you and out into the hallway. You ducked your head out of the apartment and watched as he walked away. His hands were flexing into fists from the nerve of it all.

“Thank you,” you called. He stopped walking and turned to face you. “Don't do it again.”

He made no reply, but you could tell that he was sorry. Somewhere in that black hole of a heart of his was a sense of morality. Or something maybe a little close to it.

You slowly went back into your apartment and were greeted by Pickles, who had been hiding under the couch during Kylo's visit

“Sorry, Pic.” You picked up the cat like a big baby, letting him rest his front paws and head over your shoulder as you patted his back. “Let's feed you.” But his bowl in the kitchen was filled. That was strange. Had Amena sent someone to feed your cat overnight? You shrugged. At least you had people looking out for you.

You slept for most of the day with Pickles wrapped around the top of your head. A steady headache was pounding, and you still wanted to avoid light and sound. When you _did_ finally get up, it was evening, and you stood before the bathroom mirror with a compact mirror held behind you to look at the seven stitches hidden among your hair at the back of your head. There was a knot the size of an egg beneath the cut, and your scalp was bruised red and purple. It was most likely going to hurt for a couple of weeks, but at least the headache was a little better now. You could stand the bathroom lamp being on, at least. It was a step in the right direction.

A knock upon the door tore you from the mirror, and you answered to see one of the Storm Troopers from the day before. You could tell it was him even with his helmet now on; there was just a certain feel to him. That or you were remembering that there was a particular scratch on his chest armour. Whatever.

He was holding a small cardboard box that he handed to you.

“There's a note attached, ma'am,” he mentioned, as you started to turn the box this way and that, wondering from whom it was.

You thanked him and wandered over to your tiny kitchen table with its two bar stools. You sat down to flicked the note open.

_Sorry._ _-KR_

Oh. Of course. He was trying to get on your good side now, eh? You rolled your eyes but opened the box. There wasn't much inside—nothing particularly special to anyone else who would have opened the box. But you knew that the contents had been chosen _specifically_ for you. Reaching inside, you found a glass jar of loose leaf tea and a few pieces of fresh fruit. Your eyes glanced up to the pantry list that was attached to your refrigerator. Tea and fruit were the only things that you had written two days before.

Beneath the food was a single book, its binding cracked and pages yellowed. It appeared to be some adventure novel. You flicked through the pages, seeing pencil scratches beneath certain sentences and a few notes scribbled in the front cover that had been haphazardly erased. You could feel the imprint of the writing beneath your finger nails; it appeared to be a name written as part of a gift.

_To Ben, Love Mum_

“Well, Ben's mum, thanks for the book,” you mumbled whilst setting it back into the box.

You picked up a pen and scrap piece of paper from the table and swiveled the pen around, trying to think of what to say. Finally, you just scribbled down the first thing you could think of.

_Thanks, but I still have 7 stitches because of you._ _-x_

You folded the letter in half and wrote Kylo's name on the front. Walking out of your apartment's front door, you handed the letter to the first Storm Trooper you could find. Maybe it was petty, but you still felt that he deserved such a reminder.

Aggravated, you returned to the box and tossed an apple from hand to hand. _Ugh._ You didn't like that you wanted to eat it. You didn't like that the tea was what you had been craving for weeks. You slipped the book from the bottom of the box and curled back into bed. Your head still hurt too bad to do much reading, but you at least read the first few pages before drifting back to sleep.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Another knock on the door swiftly woke you, and you snapped forward in bed, the still opened book and Pickles both flying off of you. You glanced at the clock. Ten thirty. Wait, was that in the evening or morning? You couldn't tell.

Groggy and still a bit slow from the headache, you managed to open the door. Amena was in the doorway, an eyebrow raised at the sight of you.

“Did you forget to come by for your check up?” she asked, letting herself into your apartment before you could reply.

Honestly, you didn't even remember Amena telling you to come by daily. She sat you down and shined a light back and forth, watching your eyes. Then she tested your reflexes, your mathematical skills, verbal reasoning. It may as well have been a full cranial nerve exam for the amount of tests she put you through.

Finally, Amena wrote down a few notes and shuffled through her papers. “Unsurprisingly, you still have a concussion. You may feel the effects for the next few days, but I'll release you back to work tomorrow. I'll stop by your's and Talia's office for tomorrow's check up so that you don't have to worry about forgetting.”

Amena started to make her way toward the door but stopped half way and turned back around, her fingers moving between papers. “Speaking of forgetting... I was asked to give this to you.” She handed you a letter, your initials being printed on the front.

Excusing herself, Amena left you alone with the note. You broke through the tape that sealed the edge and read the letter with a groan.

_Only 7 stitches? I would have thought more judging by the amount of blood on my hood._ _-KR_

You chucked the letter over to Pickles, who started batting it around your living room.

So Kylo Ren was going to sass you?

What an intolerable arse.

 

**Glossary:**

_Cranial Nerve Exam_ : a series of short tests to check one's cognitive abilities. It tests reflexes and is often used to help determine the presence of neurological disorders like strokes and dementia. Faux versions of these exams are popular in the ASMR community, but from having seen one in first person, I can guarantee that you don't want to have one. Not so much because they're tedious and boring, but because, if you have to have a cranial nerve exam, it's probably because something is very wrong with you.

 

 **A/N:** All aboard the trash ship. Here's where it begins.


	7. Sending Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren wants to talk. You don't.

_I bled on your hood to claim it as my own. It was part of my master plan._ _-x_

_Hux had it washed._ _-KR_

_Did Hux also tell you to come apologise to me???_ _-x_

_I'm capable of making decisions on my own._ _-KR_

_Bullshit._ _-x_

Somehow, _this_ had become your correspondence over the past few days. Every now and then, a Storm Trooper would stop by your apartment or office, holding a scrap of paper for you to open. Sometimes they would stick around, waiting for you to write out a reply to be delivered. Other times, they high tailed it. In their defense, it was probably terrifying doing any work for Kylo Ren.

You never tried to be nice in your little letters to him. Kylo didn't seem to deserve it. If anything, you were purposely mean, and yet his responses kept coming back, just as sarcastic. You didn't know whether to be irritated by his persistence or to just make fun of him for trying so hard to continue talking to you.

_I stole that tea from the pantry. It better have been worth it._ _-KR_

_I put it into Pickles' litter box._ _-x_

_No you didn't. And you have terrible taste in naming animals._ _-KR_

_You have terrible taste in anger management mechanisms._ _-x_

That last one didn't get a reply back.

You figured that you had finally annoyed Kylo Ren or had touched upon an insecurity. It really didn't matter to you if he was butt hurt about the truth. Simply gliding your fingers over the stitches on your scalp was reminder enough of why he deserved this.

Your letters hadn't gone unnoticed over the past few days—not with the Storm Troopers stopping by your office that you shared with Talia. She pretended to be prodding at a slide under her microscope, but you knew she was paying attention to those letters that were piling up in the rubbish bin. You trusted her not to pry through your garbage, but it was only a matter of time before she started asking questions. Or someone _else_ started asking questions. So it was a bit of a relief when you didn't receive any more messages for three days.

Your headache had finally left by this time, along with the nausea and dizziness of the concussion, but the knot on your scalp was another matter. The swelling had barely gone down at all and was keeping you up at night. There was just no way to get comfortable with the pillow pressing against the stitches or Pickles trying to sleep on your head. Understandably, you had been exhausted during work—another thing of which Talia had been acutely aware.

“When was the last time you slept?” she asked, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at your back. You had been leaning in front of a computer monitor, rereading the same paragraph for the past fifteen minutes. No matter how many times that you had tried to understand this particular research report sent from Mickella, it still didn't make any sense.

You leaned back, kicking the crumpled paper with your toe back over to Talia. “I slept last night... just not very well.”

“Obviously,” she replied while throwing the paper back at your face.

“My pillow hurts the stitches; it's just going to take a little time to heal.”

Talia walked over to your computer monitor and clicked the power switch as she headed toward the exit to start her belated lunch break. “Take a break, then. Otherwise, you're gonna fall asleep on the job or get hurt, and I'll never hear the end of it from Amena.”

You watched as Talia walked away, your fingers batting the crumpled paper back and forth. It was only after she had left that you looked down to notice that there was writing inside of the paper she had thrown at you. You unwrinkled it and read the two words that had been scrawled in Talia's tiny cursive. It sent a shiver down your spine.

_Be Careful._

You swallowed a lump that had instantly formed in your throat and quickly threw the paper into the rubbish bin along with all of Kylo Ren's letters from the days before. How much did Talia know? Did anyone else know?

“ _Damn it..._ ” you groaned whilst carrying your rubbish bin to a garbage chute down the hall. Kylo Ren was nothing but a lot of trouble.

You decided to take the afternoon easy—not necessarily because Talia had wanted you to, but because you wanted to mull over this entire wreck of a week in the privacy of your own home, surrounded by a fortress of books and blankets and a purring cat. Rolling into your easy chair and wrapping a duvet around you like a nest had never felt so good, and Pickles was pleased to see you. He always was.

You thought about Kylo Ren—about those stupid letters back and forth that had thankfully stopped. What was his problem? You had asked General Hux about Kylo a couple of days before, eager to understand why he had attacked you out of nowhere. Apparently, those tantrums of his were frequent enough that everyone else on board had learnt to completely avoid him whenever he was angry—which seemed to be fairly often. And you hadn't quite understood _how_ he had attacked you. Hux had tried to explain that it was 'The Force', but that sounded fake. So you had asked Talia and Amena the same question, only to receive the same answer. But that still didn't help. This left you with only one other person to ask.

Captain Phasma wasn't one to lie to you—or anybody else for that matter. Nor was she the type to mince words or hide information from you in the same way that Hux did. Hux was one of the closest things you had to a friend on board, but he could be infuriatingly cryptic. Thankfully, Phasma was willing to tell you a little more about the Force. It wasn't as in-depth as you would have preferred, being a researcher at heart, but at least she was able to explain the concept in terms that you would understand. You started to think of it as energy, like some mystical form of electricity that was coursing through Kylo Ren's veins.

“The fact of the matter,” Phasma stated, “is that the Force can be used and developed as a skill. Some people have a natural inclination toward it; most don't.”

So the Force as a concept was starting to make at least a _little_ sense. But you were still left trying to understand Kylo Ren. Part of you wanted to know _why_ he was so angry and _why_ he took it out on seemingly innocent bystanders who just wanted to go visit their damned medical mystery all ready. And then there was the part of you who wanted to entirely forget about his existence and just pretend that there weren't stitches on the back of your head or the remnants of bruising along your neck.

Glancing over at the pile of books that surrounded your chair, you noticed the book from Kylo Ren. You had only read the first chapter before tossing it on top of the pile.

“Fuck Kylo Ren,” you whispered to yourself whilst picking up the book. Your fingers turned to the inside cover again, nail running over the erased name. Maybe Kylo had stolen the book from some kid named Ben and packaged it up along with the tea and fruit (which you had eaten, but had not been happy about). You flipped to the second chapter and began to read without paying much attention. Thoughts slipped in and out of your consciousness as your eyes scanned the pages. You probably would have continued in your trance-like state until falling asleep if it hadn't been for a knock at the door.

Being still exhausted and completely unwilling to look even mildly professional, you answered the door with your duvet still wrapped around you. Whoever it was could just deal with you looking like you had crawled out of the gutter.

Standing at the door was a Storm Trooper holding a folded piece of paper. The very sight made your stomach flip with anxiety. It had been three days; wasn't Kylo Ren finished sending you these letters? You sighed as you opened the letter.

_We need to talk._ _-KR_

“No we don't,” you mumbled.

The Storm Trooper in front of you cocked his head to the side. “Ma'am, he requests a reply.”

“Of course, he does.”

The Trooper handed you a blank piece of paper and a pen, and you sloppily wrote a reply with the paper pressed up against the still opened door.

_Sure, come over for tea. It'll taste like litter._ _-x_

You folded the note and handed it back to the Trooper before heading back into your apartment and rolling even tighter into your blanket nest. Hopefully your letter had been sassy enough to get him off your case. You didn't expect to hear from him for a while, so you finally found a comfortable enough position to take a nap.

A short-lived nap.

There wasn't a knock at the door to wake you, but you heard the click of the deadbolt swivel in your front door. Then there was the sound of the front door trying to be opened, only for it to thud against the door frame.

The idiot had accidentally locked your door whilst trying to let himself in. _Un-fucking-believable._

You got up from your chair, this time leaving the duvet behind, and unlocked the door, throwing it open to face Kylo Ren.

He stood there paused halfway through action, not having expected you to answer the door. You merely grimaced and placed yourself in the doorway so that he couldn't enter.

“What?” Your voice came out as a growl.

Kylo Ren folded his arms over his chest and glared down at you through the slit in his mask. You could feel the hair on your neck rise again from that glare. It didn't matter that you couldn't see his eyes—it was there. The stare was piercing to the point of being physically painful.

“ _What?_ ” you repeated, growing angry.

He unfolded his arms, flexing his fingers to control himself. “There's something I need to discuss with you.”

“Can it be discussed here, or do I have to actually invite you inside? Because I'm not going to lie, I don't want to see you.”

“It's a private matter.”

You stood there, biting your lip and looking like you could spit in his face. He waited, silent and still glaring.

“Fine,” you spat. “But under a condition—no helmet.”

Kylo quickly nodded and brought his hands to the helmet to remove it. He pulled the helmet off and shook his hair free so that it lied in tousled waves over his face. There was that young face again, pale and with small, scattered freckles. You finally moved out of the doorway and turned toward your kitchenette's table to sit down at a barstool. Kylo Ren followed silently behind you and set his helmet on your table beside the glass jar of loose leaf tea that was still sitting out.

He gave a flicker of a smile at the tea.

“I knew that you hadn't destroyed it,” he said. It was the most that you had ever heard him say when not altering his voice. His voice was smooth, low, and just barely controlled. It gave away his emotions just like his dark eyes.

“I suppose that you'd like a cup of it?” you asked.

Kylo glanced from the tea to an electric kettle that was sitting on your counter. He held up his hand, and you saw the kettle's switch flick to the 'on' position. Then he sat across from you as though he hadn't just used the Force to start making the two of you tea.

“How much do you know about the Force?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Only what I was told after you so viciously attacked me.”

A cruel scowl struck Kylo's face, but he tried to hide it. “ _Usually_ no one gets near enough to be hurt.”

“Lucky me, then.”

“It was an accident!” he yelled, fist slamming against your table. The water in the kettle was suddenly whistling, and Kylo got up to grab it, while putting his back to you.

You folded your arms and leaned back into your chair, watching him pour the boiling water into two ceramic mugs that had been sitting in a dish drying rack. “I'd appreciate it if you didn't hit my things.”

He turned back to you and set one of the mugs in front of you with a tea infuser bobbing on its surface before quickly submerging beneath a swirl of brown bubbles. Sitting down, he held onto his own mug with ungloved hands, letting the heat burn his fingers.

Kylo let out a little huff, letting the pain seep into him as he closed his eyes and took a burning sip. His voice was even lower afterwards. “...The Force.”

It was so incredibly obvious that he was trying to act tough, as though harming himself would put him in the mindset that he needed. _Ridiculous_. But you were going to ignore his antics. If he wanted to burn his fingers and tongue, then so be it.

You answered him. “It's an energy, right?”

“Something like that,” he replied. “But it's within all life, just binding everything together. Binding matter and minds. It runs through all life and can be harnessed.” Kylo held up his hand and used the Force to pull your cup of tea over to him, where he held a finger above it to stir the infuser around in circles.

You weren't impressed. Not when you knew that the Force could also be used to choke you from a full room away and drag you through the air.

“Parlour tricks,” you mumbled whilst pulling your tea away from him. “So you can control matter? Big deal.”

Kylo was annoyed but tried to keep the anger from seeping into his voice. “It's not just the ability to control things... to control... _people_. The Force is far more powerful than that. You can see into people's minds. Control them _mentally_ , not just _physically_.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The entire idea of controlling another person unsettled her to the core. “Are you wanting to read my mind? Take my thoughts? How about you take these stitches back? Or the bruises?” You pointed at your neck where the faintest hints of bruising from his fingers still remained.

Kylo looked nervous for a moment, but it fluttered into anger and then into a steely calm as he glared at you. You glared back, both of you leaning over the table to try to make the other feel as uncomfortable as possible.

“I already _tried_ to look into your mind after I accidentally attacked you, but it was like facing up against a brick wall,” Kylo growled.

That seemed skeptical. “You're saying you couldn't read my mind?”

“I _could_ have, but not easily. I stopped trying when it became obvious that you were going to bleed to death if I didn't send for help.”

Oh, great. So not only had he _physically_ attacked you, but apparently he had also tried to use his little Force tricks to read your mind. Just great. “You realise that's a gross violation of my personal space, right?”

“I wasn't searching your mind for the hell of it,” he snapped. “I was trying to judge the extent that I had hurt you—trying to see where you were in pain so I could tell the Troopers. I may lose control of myself in anger, but there is a reason why I opt for destroying unfeeling machinery rather than those around me.”

You leaned back again, huffing and biting your lip. He was telling the truth. You knew when people were lying to you, and this wasn't it. But even if his intentions were decent, that didn't negate the fact that he had tried to enter your mind without permission. That was another check against him.

“So what does this all mean for me?” you asked.

Kylo stayed seated for a while but wished that he was standing, pacing. He ran his fingers through his hair—a nervous habit. And then he was biting at his short nails and cuticles, avoiding your eye contact.

“Hux wants you to be tested in the Force,” he finally said.

You almost laughed. “What, like you think I have it?”

Kylo nodded.

“You do realise how ridiculous you sound right now?” And suddenly you were leaning forward again, glaring with unbreakable eye contact. “What makes either of you think I have some magical abilities?”

“It's not magic.” Kylo stiffened in his seat and leaned forward until you were merely inches away.

“You know what I mean.”

“The Force... _varies_ within people. It's there within everyone to a small extent, but some people harness it better than others, and they can harness it in different ways. Hux said that you're good with people. Uncanny. You _read_ them.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “I, for one, just have halfway decent social skills. It's not unusual.”

“It _is_ unusual,” he corrected. “It's unusual to be able to read everyone around you like they're some open book, to block them as their minds try to enter yours, to nonchalantly place a mental block on your consciousness even when in extreme pain.”

He was getting flustered, just barely containing that anger that was rushing through him. And then, there was a desperation in his voice. He wanted you to believe him. He wanted it more than anything.

_How do I even know this?_

Was it really a matter of the Force that let you know just what he believed, to feel the emotions and intentions of others? Could some mystical energy be coursing through your veins like it did through his? Guiding you and letting you understand what others tried so hard to keep hidden?

No. It just seemed too unreal. Too strange. Too fantasy. You were a scientist, a researcher. You didn't have time for these faerie tales.

“I don't believe you.”

It was a lie.

“I just don't.”

A lie again.

 

 **A/N:** Originally, I had planned on these two actually coming to some terms in this chapter, but nevermind. Our reader is more stubborn than I had previously recognised.


	8. SC-4341

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your relationships aboard are suddenly suffering in the aftermath of Kylo Ren's and Hux's suspicions that you may be sensitive to the Force. You refuse to believe this and have nothing but harsh words for the pair of them. Meanwhile, the fate of the ill Storm Trooper balances precariously, and you are forced to intervene in his care, even though it means working alongside the last person whom you want to see.

****“Hux!” you shouted, running down your hall. He was just up ahead, walking alongside a captain and discussing who knew what. His conversation didn't really matter to you much right now. Not after what you had been told by Kylo Ren—that they had been speaking behind your back, discussing whether or not you were sensitive to the Force. There was no way you were sensitive. Absolutely no way. You _refused_ to believe it. Not until you could test the whole theory for yourself.

He turned around, looking slightly surprised that you would be angrily calling him and running up to him as a frazzled mess. The captain beside him gave you a long, judging glare. You recognised him as the very captain who had come to your apartment all those weeks before and held the contract that had inevitably lead to this mess. What was his name, again? Captain Ardeus Stratoveer? That sounded right.

You didn't want to see him right now and ignored him entirely.

“I need to speak with you. Right now,” you demanded to General Hux. He nodded over to Captain Ardeus, who left with a sneer in your direction.

Pulling you aside to an alcove in the hallway, Hux glanced from your still bruised neck to the worry and anger that had furrowed your eyebrows. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” you assured. But then you crossed your arms and turned in such a way to force his back against the corner of the alcove as you gave him the dirtiest glare that you could manage. “How long have you been discussing me with Kylo Ren without including me in the conversation?”

“What do you mean?” He knew _exactly_ what you meant.

“You want me to be tested to see if I have the Force or whatever. If I'm 'Force sensitive'. When were you going to tell me?”

Hux cursed under his breath. “Ren wasn't supposed to tell you.”

“How much are you hiding from me?”

Hux looked so uncomfortable—as though it was _his_ neck that was being crushed under Kylo Ren's fingers. You watched a bead of sweat collect at his temple. “Anything that I hide is for your own benefit.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, Kylo Ren may be a violence-prone jerk, but at least he's been honest with me. Hux, you're my _friend_. Do you know that? I expect better.”

You could tell that Hux honestly felt bad—not so much about hiding things from you, because at that, he excelled and felt no shame, but because he knew that you were disappointed. That word 'friend' was sitting on the tip of his tongue like a dose of cyanide, taunting and tearing into him like a knife. You knew that, if he was capable of such a thing, then he would want to use the word for you as well. But instead, he swallowed his hurt and tried to put on a neutral face.

“Trust that I have your best interests at heart,” he whispered. And all of a sudden, he had slipped past you to escape down the hall.

You watched him leave, his shoulders hunched and legs moving too fast. He looked like he was drowning on the air he breathed. But there was something satisfying to seeing him in that state, to knowing that you had gotten to him. If only he had apologised or given you some answers, though. He was as hard-headed as Kylo Ren, but in his own way.

Still, something seemed amiss. Maybe it was the fear that had been in Hux's eyes as he had told you that he cared for your safety. But you ran after him, stopping him with your hand on his uniformed shoulder.

“Why are you so afraid of me being Force sensitive?” you asked. Your voice had calmed down, was kinder now.

Hux bit at the inside of his cheek. “I never said that I was.”

“No, but I'm not an idiot. You give away everything that you feel.”

He was boiling inside but tried to contain the anger, the fear, the hurt. This was a confirmation that he needed, and try as he might to hide it, you knew with a twist of your stomach what he was thinking.

 _“You're force sensitive. It really is true,”_ he may as well have said to you, even though no words escaped from his lips. It scared you. Honestly and completely scared you, because something deep down said that he was right. That Kylo Ren was right. That something very strange and foreign was coming to light that you hadn't wanted to acknowledge.

“I'll leave this to Ren, if that pleases you,” Hux conceded. “The entire matter can be between the two of you. Just... don't get yourself hurt around him.”

You nodded and held your hand to him to shake. Getting harmed again by Kylo Ren wasn't part of your plan. “I want your word on it.”

He was hesitant but finally shook your hand, giving you a little squeeze.

And this time, you let Hux actually leave.

Standing there for a little while, you leaned against the metal wall of the long hallway to feel the icy cold iron at your back. Your hands were over your face as you took in a deep breath, and you ran your fingers through your hair, reminding you of that nervous habit of Kylo Ren's.

“What were the two of you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes to your left, not even bothering to turn your head. Talia was standing there, looking curious and mildly concerned.

“We were settling an argument.”

She pouted in his direction. He was barely visible as he made a turn and disappeared from sight. “What about?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Stupid things.”

Talia prodded you with her elbow, wanting to know more.

“Pout all you want; I don't think that I'm really allowed to say anything about it,” you said. If Hux and Kylo Ren were being so secretive about the Force in relation to you, then maybe it was for the best to keep the secret from Talia until you knew what was going on.

Talia was grimacing by this point. “So long as you two aren't...”

“No.” You knew where she was going with that. _Ha! Absolutely not._ “What is between you and Hux, anyway?”

“A lot.”

“Any of it you want to talk about?”

Talia started to walk away, clearly following after General Hux. “Nope.”

* * *

Two days passed with no word on the subject of the Force.

Talia alternated between overly bubbly and strangely silent in your office, paying too much attention to every random Storm Trooper who walked past the office, as though expecting them to come in. She seemed disappointed and withdrew from the dinner table in the third alcove of the cafeteria.

Hux barely looked at you when you passed in the hallway. He seemed too embarrassed to actually initiate a greeting, too sorry for himself. You still said 'hello' to him, but you didn't bother hiding that you were still upset with him. Maybe it would be good for him to think about his actions for a little while. He, too, withdrew from the table, though he claimed it was for on-base training reasons.

Captain Phasma seemed to be missing as well, though in her defense, she had actual responsibilities on the Starkiller Base. Her absence wasn't worrying to you.

So you and Dr Amena were the only ones at dinner. For her part, she was quiet, not bothering to speak unless absolutely necessary. Apparently, the Trooper under her care was getting worse, which had been weighing heavily on her mind.

“I just don't understand,” she admitted after having stared off for a few minutes. Amena adjusted her hooded scarf around her hair, fingers playing at the hem that draped over her shoulder. “Every test has come back negative. Every single one. It makes me wonder if that horrid psychiatrist of ours is right about it all being mental illness.”

You had only stopped by once during that week to see the Trooper, SC-4341. He had been screaming incoherently and then babbling about food he wanted to eat. Apples. He wouldn't stop talking about apples. And then he babbled about being trapped. He had no idea that you were even in the room with him, and so you had left after reading through his entire medical chart. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing at all.

“It would be nice if you dropped by to visit him again,” Amena mentioned. She had finished her dinner and was about to throw away the food she couldn't manage to eat. “His symptoms change near daily, and Talia and I are becoming... not as hopeful. I'll put it that way.”

You didn't make any promises on when you would stop by, but you figured it would be some time over the next few days. You still didn't see how you could help, though.

Returning to your apartment, you decided that it was time to fully distract yourself from everyone and everything around you. That stupid book from Kylo Ren was still on your mind. You had read a few more chapters. It wasn't bad. Slow going, but not bad. There were political heists and fierce royalty and the redemption of the most evil in the face of danger. Not your usual read, but the fantasy was a little fun. Whoever Ben had been who first owned the book must have thoroughly enjoyed it, because it seemed like you couldn't get through a single page without finding another quote underlined or his thoughts scattered in pencil on the margins.

As you turned down the hall toward your apartment, you saw a figure all in black sitting on the floor and leaning against your door. It only took you a second to know who it was.

Kylo Ren heard your footsteps and quickly made to remove his helmet and rake his hair back with his fingers. You raised an eyebrow at him, a fist already balled at your hips.

“You didn't break into my apartment this time,” you congratulated sarcastically.

“I'm attempting to not 'violate your personal space'.” He quoted your words back at you.

Kylo stood as you started to unlock your apartment's front door. “I guess you want to come in with me?”

He gave a little nod. “Hux told me about what you said—about not being included.”

Sighing, you let him follow you inside of the apartment. You switched on the kitchenette's dome light just in time to see Pickles run as quick as his kitty feet could carry him to hide under the bed. Kylo sat at your table, already picking at his cuticles and nails again.

“Hux will no longer be involved in matters of you and the Force,” Kylo said. He took a small chance in glancing at you, his eyes dark but not angry. It was the first time that you had ever seen him in a neutral state and not ready to pound his fist or lightsaber against everything in sight.

“But that still implies that _you_ are going to be involved with me and the Force.”

“You say 'the Force' as though you no longer think of it as a figment of my imagination.”

“I'm not saying that.” You weren't ready to admit anything, especially when you still didn't know how you felt about the Force as a concept. You were willing to accept that the Force was real. You were _maybe_ even willing to say that it was within each person, just laying dormant in most. But when it came to yourself, you still wanted to believe that your social skills were a matter of talent and practise rather than the product of a mystical power.

Then again, it was always possible that your talent _was_ the Force, and your practise had been on... _strengthening_ the Force.

You shook your head, trying to think back to Kylo Ren who was waiting for you to come back out from your own head.

“Explain something to me,” you said whilst taking the seat across from him. “Whether or not I'm sensitive in the Force, why does it matter?”

Kylo looked away, his eyes bouncing around your kitchen rather than paying attention to you. “You haven't fed your cat today,” he mumbled and got up to fill Pickles' food bowl.

“That does not answer my question!” you sputtered, following behind him. Kylo was scooping out a bowl of cat food and refused to look at you. “I already fed him today, anyway. He's just fat.”

Kylo stood back up, still looking down at the floor. You paused for a moment, something dawning over you.

“ _You_ were the one who fed Pickles.” Why had you just assumed that Talia or Amena had fed your cat? They wouldn't have been able to get into your apartment, anyway, but Kylo... He had broken in once before using the Force, and it had been the morning after you had been released from the medical ward. It was him. It _had_ to be. And all you could do was grumble as you went back to your seat.

Kylo slowly moved back to his seat as Pickles ran out from under the bed and over to his food bowl to chow down on a second dinner.

Your fingers started to tap on the table, waiting. Kylo tried to just watch Pickles eat, but you knew that the silence would get to him eventually.

“Answer me.”

His eyes flashed toward you. “Because if you _are_ Force sensitive, and if... certain people discover this, then there will only be two options for your future. And I don't think that you will like either of them.”

“What are my options?”

He sighed. “Either, the First Order will demand that you be trained in the Force. Or...”

“Or what?”

His gaze was fiery. “Or you'll most likely find yourself dead.”

And that one word stuck with you, caught in your throat, felt like a punch into your chest. You could feel your face fall, from angry to scared. _Very_ scared. Scared enough that you could feel your heart now racing, blood pounding in your ears.

“Who else knows about me... that I might...”

“No one,” Kylo interjected. “Hux is the only other person, and he'll be mute about the subject.”

You slowly nodded, not quite taking in the words. “And who is it that shouldn't find out? Aside from probably everyone?”

Kylo swallowed hard, and his fingers were running through his thick hair, pulling waves from his face. “I know that it appears as though I—and perhaps General Hux—are in full control of the First Order, but there are those in the shadows. There are others pulling the strings, and I answer to them only.”

“If they asked you about me, would you tell them?” You wanted to know just how much of a threat Kylo Ren would be to your safety if all of this was true.

He made no movement and didn't break eye contact. You had wanted to see him shake his head, tell you 'no'. But there was nothing. “I'm trying to find out more on my own before the question can be posed.”

What did that mean? Was he just curious about you? Curious enough to not tell his higher ups that you existed?

He continued. “I want to know how powerful you are first. I want to know how you use the Force—because you _do_ use it. There's no need to give you a formal test when it's obvious enough while interacting with you. There's the Force in you. Can you feel it?”

“No.”

“You're lying.”

He held a hand up beside your head, and you smacked it away. “Don't think that you're going to look into my mind,” you spat while standing up.

“I'm not,” he admitted. “Call it 'wishful thinking'. I'm not used to not getting the information that I want.”

You were already walking away from him, ready to open the door and command that he leave. But as you opened the door, you heard a startled gasp. On the other side of the door was Dr Amena, her hand half way raised to knock on your door.

Amena seemed exasperated. Usually she was calm, collected, level-headed. But now, she couldn't have been farther from that. Her dark brown eyes were wide as she looked from you to Kylo Ren and then back to you in alarm.

“I need your help. Now. It's about SC-4341.”

You ignored Kylo who had walked up behind you to listen in on the conversation. He towered over Amena, who was impatiently tapping her foot.

“What is it, what's wrong?” you asked, already stepping out of your apartment to follow her. Once again, Kylo was silently behind you, his helmet already covering his face.

Amena shook her head, adjusting her scarf once again out of pure nervousness. “He's out of control. No one will help me; my aides are too afraid of him. Talia is God knows where—probably with Hux. And I can't do this on my own.” She was desperate, almost begging as you followed her to the medical ward.

“I'll help.” You didn't know how, but you could at least offer. You looked behind your shoulder at Kylo Ren, who was as menacing as ever in his all black flowing behind him. You figured that he would turn down a different hallway and were about to tell him to leave, but Amena opened her mouth first.

“And Ren, I need your help, too.”

He nodded.

“We'll need the Force.”

* * *

 

You were nearly running down the satellite's 300s hallway after Dr Amena so that you and Kylo Ren could join her in the medical ward, which was surprising considering her tiny stature. Her ankle-length skirt fluttered behind her as she made twists and turns down the hall and past gaggles of off-duty Storm Troopers. The determination screamed out of her as she yelled for the Troopers to move. No one had heard such a loud, stern voice come from the usually quiet woman. The Troopers scattered like insects, running back into their bunkers. Not only did they not want to face Dr Amena in her worried anger, but with a threatening Kylo Ren following behind, they weren't about to step out of line.

Amena nearly crashed into several of her aides in the medical ward, barreling past them with a string of curses in a language that you didn't understand. She was spitting mad at their refusal to help her, but you could see instantly that they were terrified of SC-4341. Absolutely terrified and completely unwilling to spend another ounce of effort on what they saw as a hopeless case.

Both you and Kylo Ren followed behind Amena to the fourth room of the medical ward, where weak screams echoed like the suffered calls of a dying animal. It was instantly clear why most of the aides and nurses couldn't stand being with him. The noise alone was gut-wrenching.

When you finally saw SC-4341, he was lying in a hospital bed, metal restraints around his wrists and ankles, a couple of canvas strips over his torso, and an IV drip taped into his arm. He was shrunken, withered. It looked as though he had lost a third of his body weight in just a couple of weeks, and there was a sunken look to his cheeks that made him appear skeletal.

And yet for all of his weakness, he was still trying to yell, still attempting to reach anyone he could with those strangled cries and screams.

“I'm—trapped!” he sputtered. “Help! Help—me!” All of his words and phrases were monosyllabic, as though he was a toddler yelling out inside of a twenty three year old's body. His speech was slurred, as though his tongue couldn't figure out how to move inside of his mouth. You watched as spit flew into the air with his struggling remarks. It was a hideous thing to see.

Amena was beside him, checking a monitor to see his vitals. _Elevated blood pressure._ Otherwise, all was normal. But nothing was really normal. SC-4341 had sliced his wrists on the metal restraints from the amount of wiggling and fighting he had put against them. His ankles had been rubbed raw as well, and a putrid smell hung in the air from his decaying flesh and body odor.

“He's had four seizures in the past two days,” Amena commented as she inspected the Trooper's bloodied wrists. “After a grand mal this evening, my aides abandoned him.” She looked as though she could murder them.

You walked to the right side of the hospital bed where an empty chair and computer monitor sat. Turning it on, you started to take notes of everything you saw. Absolutely everything. From his vitals to how he looked to the strangled words that tried to escape his lips. You didn't know if the notes would help, but honestly, anything was worth a try at this point. And seeing Amena in her tormented state only made you want to try harder.

“I want for him to be released from the restraints, but I don't trust him,” she sighed after checking the Trooper over. Amena turned to Kylo Ren, her eyes pleading. “This is why I asked for you to join us.”

Kylo's voice answered in its mechanical rumble. “You'd have me used like one of your cowardly aides?”

Amena glared in his direction. “I don't have time for this, Ren.”

He gave an exasperated shrug, as though he couldn't believe that he had been asked to do such menial work. You shot him a warning glance and knew that he had caught it. The way he stiffened for a moment under your eye was momentarily satisfying, but you turned away to focus on Amena. She mattered more.

“Tell me what to do,” you said.

Amena pulled a set of magnetic keys from her lab coat pocket and began to plug one of the keys into the hospital bed. A series of clicks came from the restraints as they unlocked.

“In a moment,” Amena explained, “I'll have the metal restraints retract back into the bed, and he'll be free, save for the canvas restraints over his chest. Ren... this is where we may need your expertise.”

In preparation, Amena handed you a pair of surgical gloves, antiseptic ointment, and a roll of sterile gauze. It was her hope that they would be able to clean and bandage his wounds without him realising that he had been temporarily released, though it was a risky venture with SC-4341 still out of his mind and willing to punch anything within an arm's length.

On the count of three, Amena released the metal restraints from the Trooper and instantly started to apply the ointment to the wrist nearest her as you did the same. You poured the sizzling antiseptic on the ring of blood around his wrist, watching as loose skin and blood instantly dripped from the deep cuts.

The antiseptic must have stung, because the Trooper was screaming out in deafening shrieks with each dose. It took him only a few seconds to start wiggling around. At first, he kicked into the air, but then he suddenly ripped his arm from your grasp. As fast as a flash of lightning, he was swinging his arm, ready to pummel you to the ground. You flinched, eyes squeezed shut and arms trying to protect your face out of instinct, but the punch never came.

You opened your eyes to see the Trooper's arm suspended in mid air. Across the room, Kylo Ren's hand was out stretched and trembling as he used the Force to hold the man in place.

“Continue,” he growled beneath the mask.

You quickly shook your head in affirmation and whispered 'thank you' under your breath. Standing up to reach SC-4341's suspended arm, you wrapped the gauze in circles around his wrist until the bleeding was staunched.

There. That looked better.

You chanced a look over to Kylo to make sure that he was handling himself all right, though you imagined he would be fine. When you turned, it surprised you to see Kylo looking at _you_ rather than the Trooper. You tried to direct him back to the Trooper, and the slightest hint of a sigh escaped from his helmet as he focused on the man before him.

Amena had already finished working on his other wrist and was looking at his raw ankles, cleaning them as well. You swiftly moved to the other ankle and followed suit. Thankfully, there was less work to do here.

Wiping away at the sweat on her forehead with her scarf, Amena took a step back and faced Kylo Ren for a few seconds. “I need for you to hold him here while I find a new set of restraints.” She frowned at the Trooper in pity. “We'll go back to canvas restraints. He's weak enough that they will be more than enough.”

Amena scampered out of the room, and Kylo slowly walked closer to the Trooper with his right hand still controlling every muscle of the pathetic man. You backed away to sit at your chair, eyes fluttering between the horrified look on the Trooper's face and then to Kylo, who had his eyes glued on you again.

“I always know when you're looking at me,” you mentioned. “Even when that mask is hiding your eyes.” For just a second, you saw the Trooper lurch before the Force had taken back over the man with full strength.

“You know why that is.” It wasn't a question.

You didn't want to admit anything. “Even if it _was_ the Force, it's obviously not helping me as much as you think.” You looked back down at the Trooper with a pitying frown. “If I _was_ strong in the Force, then maybe I would have already figured out what's wrong with him.”

Scooting in your seat toward the computer monitor, you started to read out the full list of symptoms to Kylo Ren in the order that they had appeared in the Trooper.

_Migraines, hallucinations, mild seizures, paranoia, memory loss, a temporary diagnosis of schizo-affective disorder, violence, incoherent yelling, increased paranoia and anxiety, muscle weakness, slurring of words, monosyllabic speech, apathy, grand mal seizures._

“And literally the only thing that Amena has found on a single test is that his blood pressure is a little high. There's nothing else. Just... nothing,” you sighed.

“The Force wouldn't help you pull a diagnosis out of thin air,” Kylo corrected.

“But if I could look into minds in the same way that _you_ obviously can, then we wouldn't be here. I'd actually be able to see the words that are caught in his brain and can't reach his mouth. Because there's something, _someone_ still inside of him. Look at his eyes; it's undeniable.”

Kylo doubted that. The Trooper's infantile behaviour was only an indication that SC-4341 was on his way out of this life. There was nothing left inside of the Trooper for all he could see.

Yet, Kylo's left hand raised to rest on the Trooper's head.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

Your eyes were wide. “You're going to read his mind?”

“If you allow it,” he sneered. You knew that he didn't really care about your permission but was testing you—trying to see if you would drop your morals with the snap of his fingers. He was taunting you—a temptor.

You took in a deep breath, not quite knowing what to do. On one hand, you respected the Trooper's right to his own thoughts. But then...

Kylo was laughing at your struggle. “I thought that you were opposed to the invasion of one's personal space.”

“I _am,_ ” you said, feeling shittier and shittier about the decision you were about to make. “But I'm also willing to break my morals when something greater is at stake.” Like this man's life. At this point, you would do anything to figure out _why_ these terrible things were happening to him.

Holding the Trooper's face in your hands so that you could see directly into his terrified eyes, you asked for his permission. But the Trooper only stared back, a whistling scream slowly moving from his lips. You wanted to reach out to him and understand— _truly_ understand what he was trying to communicate—so regardless of his answer, you gave the go ahead to Kylo Ren.

For a little while, neither of you spoke, but you impatiently watched Kylo as he searched through the mind of the crazed Trooper. Even though this wasn't what you had wanted to happen to the Trooper, there was still a glimmer of hope within you that Kylo would find _something_. Any thought at all that could be pulled from his mind and help you come to a diagnosis and then, hopefully, a cure would be remarkable. It was all you wanted. And as the seconds passed and Kylo concentrated harder, your hopes grew.

Then Kylo removed his hand from the Trooper's head and relaxed his right hand as well so that the Trooper relaxed as though sedated.

“He's scared... in pain.”

You huffed out a little groan. “I could have guessed as much.”

But Kylo wasn't finished. You could hear something in his voice that you didn't fully understand. Was it Kylo's own hope mingled with disgust and his own special brand of skepticism? You leaned forward as he spoke, letting every word sink in.

“And he wants you to find the cure. He seems to believe that your background in--what is it, disease causation?--will be the deciding factor in whether or not he lives.”

You blinked for a few seconds, half wondering if Kylo was lying to you. “Me?”

“ _Specifically_ you.”

“I don't know if I'm capable,” you confessed.

But Kylo didn't seem to care about your lack of confidence.

“He wants you to save him,” he said after a little while. “So _become_ capable.”

 

 **A/N:** A reminder that Trooper SC-4341 has Anti-NMDA Receptor Encephalitis, though our doctors are not privvy to this information. All of his symptoms are described using Susannah Cahalan's book 'Brain on Fire', the experiences of my friend who sees encephalitis patients on a daily basis, the research of my neuro colleagues at the Knight ADRC, and my own personal studies. In particular, his symptom of yelling out for apples comes directly from 'Brain on Fire' and is thought to be a disease-related food craving. You can read more about her journey here: http://nypost.com/2009/10/04/my-mysterious-lost-month-of-madness/

Encephalitis (or the inflammation of the brain) varies in severity, depending on the type and cause. Some people get encephalitis and never notice any symptoms (such as what has been seen by ~30% of those in a recent Alzheimer's Disease drug trial in France). And then there are people who get the rare anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis and face extreme mania, seizures, and eventual catatonia should they not be treated. This form of encephalitis was only discovered about a decade ago, and it's thought that a small percentage of institutionalised psychiatric patients with schizophrenia actually have encephalitis. If properly diagnosed, there is a high rate of survival, though sometimes with debilitating mental deficits after treatment. Still, if caught too late or if too severe, encephalitis can be deadly should the catatonia lead to coma.


	9. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a scientist—a doctor. But you're also no match for this mystery disease that has taken over Trooper SC-4341. Even with Kylo Ren standing in the shadows, searching the mind of the Trooper, there is nothing that can be done, which has its own individual effect upon the crew of the Starkiller Base's orbiting satellite.

You remembered a certain lesson from medical school that day as you sat beside SC-4341, taking his vitals and testing his deadened reflexes. It hadn't been the most important lesson, and so you hadn't paid the much attention; now you regretted that. A visiting nurse had stopped by and explained to your class what it was like to die. Your class didn't listen. What interest did doctors have in learning about death? They were there to _save_ people. To make them _live_. So death was defeat. Why bother understanding it?

But you remembered that woman, how calm her voice was as she told you that dying wasn't like in the films, like in stories where someone drifted into the night just minutes after saying their last goodbyes. It wasn't impossible for a death to occur like that, but it wasn't likely—wasn't common. Death, she said, was a series of steps. Like any other stage in life, dying was a process, and most people died in the same way.

The body stopped moving. Appetite disappeared. Thirst vanished shortly after. Organs failed. Breathing grew laboured. Coma set in. The 'rattle' began. And then, over a series of hours, the breathing finally ended, along with the life of the being.

You wished that you had remembered more.

* * *

 

You had done everything to save the Trooper, and yet you had done absolutely nothing. He lied there before you, catatonic, no longer in need of restraints because he couldn't even walk, couldn't move his arms even enough to feed himself. Though being able to feed himself didn't matter all that much by this point, because his ability to swallow any food was gone as well. He didn't talk any more. Just occasionally mumbled.

He was wasted away. A skeleton in a sack of skin. Nothing more.

You had asked for Kylo Ren's help when you visited the Trooper. He obliged, silently following you into the medical ward to press his hand against the Trooper's head and search for any thoughts that still remained. The need to know if anyone was still inside was a haunting presence that filled your every remaining thought. Each second that wasn't spent trying to figure out exactly what was wrong or trying a different solution of chemicals to be pumped into his veins was spent in that simple pursuit. Was he there? How much? What did he want to say but was no longer able to?

At first, Kylo would translate out the simple thoughts of the Trooper with ease, but after a few days, you noticed something different. As SC-4341 deteriorated, so did Kylo. He seemed to be trying harder and harder to find any words from the man. On the first day, you thought that it was because the words floating around the Trooper's head were no longer there, but Kylo would always surprise you after a few minutes with the man's messages. Kylo Ren was a window between the Trooper and you, but he was a window that was slowly shattering.

Kylo's hand was pressed against his forehead, slowly massaging at the migraine that had immediately struck him after looking into the Trooper's mind.

“Did you find anything?” you asked, watching as Kylo grimaced with eyebrows pulled together in pain.

It took him a while to answer. “No. Not today.”

You bit at your lip, feeling disappointed that the Trooper was seemingly mute for the moment. “I had just hoped that he would say something... Give us a hint.”

“He's not going to,” Kylo growled. He wasn't angry at you, though; just at himself. He felt dizzy as he stumbled from the chair beside the Trooper and walked over to the doorway, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the opened door.

You stood up, slowly making your way beside him so that you could press your back to the metal wall and stare off as he suffered beside you. “Why do you keep doing this if it hurts you so bad?”

Kylo brought his hands to his face, both rubbing at his temples and hiding any sign of emotion. He didn't want you to read him right now and see how pale he must be, how sickly he was from just a few minutes of peering into the man's brain.

“I don't know,” he sighed. “Because I'm a masochist. Because I want to avoid other responsibilities. Take your pick.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave him a slight shove to send him out of the room and into the medical ward's hallway. Men could be such dramatic piss babies. “Get out.”

You weren't trying to be unkind, but both of you were so drained that any word out of either of your mouths seemed laced with acid. For your part, the exhaustion had never quite left after your concussion and the discomfort of the (since removed) stitches. Even once you could sleep in physical comfort, the mental discomfort set in. The worry and anxiety as the Trooper wasted away had been eating away at your thoughts and keeping you up at night to leave you harsher, more prone to snapping at the slightest of disturbances.

And then there was Kylo Ren. He never seemed fully rested to begin with, always with dark circles beneath his eyes whenever he removed his helmet. You knew that it was partially out of stress—there was always _something_ on the Starkiller Base that had him up in flames, wanting to destroy everything around him. He tried his best to simmer for as long as possible before exploding; it was a usual pattern.

Though in the past few days, he had been even more tired. Maybe it was a by product of the dying Trooper--SC-4341's last thoughts and feelings coming out like shrapnel into Kylo's mind. You appreciated whatever he could tell you, of those last tiny words that the Trooper wanted to get out, but you wondered if it was really all worth it at this point. Was it worth the immediate headache? The dizziness and nausea that struck Kylo immediately after? He tried so hard to hide it at first. Hell, he was _still_ trying to hide it, but he was failing miserably.

Not many people were entering into the Trooper's room any more. Talia checked by only every now and then, mostly for a few minutes at a time before ducking out. It was a mystery that she couldn't solve, and so she wanted to avoid it all together and instead focus back upon something— _anything—_ that she was capable of understanding.

Apparently, that 'anything' meant spending an unprecedented amount of time following General Hux around the base, sharing whispers as they walked quickly down the halls. General Hux deflected your gaze when you passed them. Rumours were flying under hushed voices: in Storm Trooper barracks; at cafeteria tables; in his central command room as he tried to concentrate. The rumours didn't particularly matter to you. You didn't need gossip to explain what you had suspected for weeks and saw directly before you.

Then there was Amena who merely appeared apathetic about the entire ordeal and had resigned herself to making the Trooper as comfortable as possible rather than trying in vain to find a cure.

So, for the most part, it was just you in that barren, overly-sanitised medical room. You and a silent SC-4341.

You had been staring off for a few minutes, mind following swirling thoughts instead of the never ending paragraphs on the computer monitor at the right of the Trooper's bed. Foot steps broke your trance, and you saw the ripple of black fabric in your periphery.

“Back again?”

Kylo Ren unlocked the helmet from his face and flopped into the seat on the other side of the Trooper. The helmet weighed heavy in his hands, and he started to scratch his fingernail into its many scratches and cracks. He didn't answer you.

You turned away from the computer, shutting down the monitor. “What is it this time?”

“That damned Captain,” he confided. His voice was a barely audible growl.

“Stratoveer?”

“Yes.”

No one had seemed to annoy Kylo Ren more lately than Captain Ardeus Stratoveer. Granted, Kylo Ren was annoyed by a lot of people, but this seemed to be getting closer to pure loathing. The smug charm that oozed from the Captain after having directly disobeyed an order just about sent Kylo over the edge. He had ranted to you the day before about the Captain and his constant meddling in the First Order's more discrete affairs. You weren't exactly sure why Hux and Kylo even allowed Captain Stratoveer to join them all the damned time if both of them couldn't stand the man, but you hadn't asked Kylo. You had just let him rant until he couldn't find anything else to say and had smashed his fist against his thigh in exasperated frustration.

“What did he do this time?” you asked with seemingly little interest. There was a fine line to tread between sounding concerned enough that he would feel free to rant for half an hour again or showing so little that you would receive no information at all. And let's face it: you were a bit nosy about what was going on outside of the medical ward.

Kylo exhaled and pulled his hands over his long face; his voice came out tired, careless. “He discredits my authority and then tries to excuse his behaviour by saying that his word should be trusted over mine just because he's older. He thinks years of experience mean more than the Force, yet he begs for training. Because he knows that he is _nothing_ without the Force. _Nothing_ without Snoke's approval. _Nothing_. He is unworthy of the Force that runs through his veins.”

He was nearly spitting in his anger as he rambled, and you leaned back in your chair to watch as though he was free entertainment. _So Stratoveer is sensitive to the Force..._ Something about that didn't surprise you. Listening further, you reached a point where you didn't even know what Kylo was going on about, but you could feel his anger emanating through the air. It was like a vibration that touched upon the skin like raw electricity.

“Who is Snoke?” you asked after he had finished seething.

Kylo's dark eyes flashed toward you, his face falling for a moment before turning into a worried scowl. “Forget the name!” he demanded.

Why did he always have to be so dramatic?

“Why?”

Kylo was across the Trooper's bed in a second, ungloved hands gripping your shoulders and face directly before yours. “For your own good, _never_ say that name. Never even think it.”

Your heart was fluttering in your chest, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. It had been such a simple question.

“I won't say anything,” you whispered.

He was still holding onto you, fingers digging into your shoulders as he gave you the sternest look you had ever seen. His fear was near paralysing as he warned you, and it took all of his effort to tear himself away, to pace back and forth at the end of the hospital bed as he muttered under his breath. You could hear curses, your name, mumbled regrets. He flexed his fingers in and out of fists as he continued pacing.

“Would you calm down?” you asked while huffily folding your arms over your chest. He looked at you as though you were crazy. “How about instead of acting like a child, you sit down and enjoy the brief minutes away from the people who annoy you.”

“I'm still with _you_.”

“Don't pretend that I'm as annoying as Hux or Stratoveer.”

He groaned, not wanting to admit that you were right, and finally sat back down in his chair, looking every bit of a child that you had called him out for being.

“Besides,” you said whilst turning back to the comatose Trooper. “I know that you come here to escape them. It's your only respite.”

It was a nihilistic respite, but a needed break nonetheless.

Kylo placed his hand near the Trooper's head, not bothering to look at either of you. It only took a couple of seconds for him to squeeze his eyes shut and show a toothy grimace. Whatever was going on inside of SC-4341's head, Kylo could feel it, and you heard him make a muffled gasp. His fingers were trembling, then arm trembling, whole body shaking with both the Force and the effort to fight off the pain that they were sharing.

“Ren, stop this,” you said. It was obvious that he was suffering.

He only huffed out a pained groan between clenched teeth, and all at once, he was on the floor--face and arms down on the metal tiles as his back heaved and he screamed aloud.

“Ren!” You rushed from your seat and ran over to him, but he shoved you away. He was curled on the floor, hands now pulling at his hair as though his brain was on fire.

You tried to reach out, touch his shoulder, pull his hands from his hair. “You can't do this any more!” you demanded. “He's in a damned coma; there's nothing more we can do.”

Kylo Ren held onto your wrist as your hands were still in his hair, and he pulled himself up so that he was sitting. Slowly, he leaned back against the chair with his head resting in the seat as he tried to catch his breath.

“I'm sick of you hurting yourself,” you sighed. He rolled his head forward from the chair and looked at you with the utmost annoyance.

“Don't scold me.”

“I will if you keep being an idiot.”

He pulled himself up to stand, and on slightly shaky legs, made to leave the room. He was trying to shake it off as though nothing had happened, which somehow just made you feel even worse about the whole situation. There was a pang at your heart that you wanted to stifle. Why did it hurt to see Kylo put himself through so much pain? It wasn't as though you even liked him all that much; if anything, he was still just a stubborn arse. But then again... so were you.

“It was worth the try,” Kylo finally said at the doorway. He had picked up his helmet and clicked it into place on his head. His voice came out in the familiar, distorted rumble. “He still has hope in you.”

As Kylo Ren walked away, you felt a lump grow in your throat. Even after you had failed and failed and failed again, SC-4341 still had hope. It hurt more than you could have ever imagined, and you felt the sting of tears pool in your eyes.

Later, you were staring up at the ceiling, swatting away the tears on your cheeks when Captain Phasma knocked on the door and entered. She was in full armour but removed her helmet as she leaned over the Trooper's bed, looking over him.

He was so withered as he lied there in a coma. He hadn't eaten in days, had only had ice chips on his tongue to settle the thirst. And over the past few hours, you had noticed a certain waxiness to his skin. It was like a translucent plastic had replaced flesh and blood, making him look like a semi-living doll. His lips had chapped and cracked; his eyes were partially opened but unseeing. Save for his steady breathing, he may as well have been dead.

Amena followed in behind Captain Phasma, shaking her head. She tugged the hooded scarf from her head and ran her fingers through her hair as she closed her eyes.

Phasma looked from the Trooper to you and back. “Any signs of improvement?”

“None whatsoever,” Amena sighed. She fiddled around with his IV bag, checking the levels of morphine and alprazolam that had been steadily streaming into his veins. “Only worse.”

Phasma frowned and knelt beside the bed. “SC-4341, can you hear me?” she asked, getting closer to him. She waited for a few seconds, trying to see any change in his breathing, in his eyes. Any sign that he had heard. “Do you think that he is aware of us?”

“Maybe,” Amena answered. “Hearing is usually the last sense left intact.”

Slowly nodding, Phasma just watched him for a while, occasionally speaking false words of encouragement. You had always liked Captain Phasma before, but seeing her here changed something within you. Somehow, you had never known that she actually _cared_ about her soldiers. Sure, she defended her Storm Troopers when other personnel would make jokes about their deficiencies, but you hadn't understood that, to her, they truly mattered. The fact that she knew the Trooper's string of letters and numbers without having checked the medical file seemed proof enough. A captain who didn't care for their soldiers didn't memorise their names.

“Technically, we have the option of a feeding tube for artifical nutrition,” Amena said, but it was obvious that she didn't want to proceed with that.

Standing, Phasma shook her head. “First Order policy doesn't allow it for Storm Troopers. And I wouldn't anyway. Look at him. We are far past the stage where it could have helped.” It pained her to admit as much, but the three of you all nodded in agreement.

Amena sighed and pulled her hood back on as she motioned for Phasma to follow her out of the room. Apparently there were medical charts to be submitted to Starkiller Base about SC-4341, and she needed the captain's signature.

You stayed there, hands over your face because you felt so incredibly guilty that you were doing nothing—that you were failing every single second. Every test you had run, every research article that you had read about his symptoms... none of it had mattered. You didn't know the cause, didn't even know the disease. You were useless.

Phasma came back after a few minutes with Amena and, somewhat to your surprise, Kylo Ren following behind. Amena was explaining some medical definitions to Phasma in the doorway, but Kylo came over by you to kneel on one knee beside the bed.

“Are you going to stay here every damned day?” he asked.

You shot him a nasty look. “It's none of your concern.”

He ignored you and watched the Trooper, seeing him struggle for breath as each inhale became a gasp and exhale a slow rattle. He lifted his hand to the man's temple, and you tried to grab his arm and move him away. But Kylo was firm and shot you a warning glare. He was going to do this, and he didn't need you to interfere. It didn't take long for his face to show the pain of the Trooper and for him to go weak in the knees. He quickly pulled his hand away, feeling nauseous and breathing rapidly.

“You're an idiot,” you reminded him.

He shook his head and slowly stood, but he smiled at you as he weakly left the room without a word. It was a small smile—a sad smile. And it cut through you like shards of glass. As Amena and Phasma followed him, you still stared at the doorway, feeling angrier than ever until you started to silently cry in earnest.

 

**Glossary:**

_Alprazolam:_ also known as Xanax, it is often administered to those in hospice care to reduce the anxiety that can come with end of life. In conjunction with morphine, these two medications can make all the difference between a comfortable death or a miserable one.

 

 **A/N:** My other hobby is thanatology. Hit me up for all your questions about death, dying, and bereavement, because I live for these conversations. If the subject of death and dying interests you, I highly recommend reading Atul Gawande's 'Being Mortal', which is about the medicalisation of death, hospice services, and changing how doctors communicate with terminal patients. If you are on the more morbid side of the aisle, I recommend watching Caitlyn Dougherty's 'Ask a Mortician' series on Youtube, which is absolutely delightful and covers a myriad of subjects. For the classic literature junkies among us, try reading Leo Tolstoy's 'The Death of Ivan Ilyich', which covers both the physical aspects of dying as well as the emotional turmoil that can accompany facing one's mortality.


	10. Go To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the drama surrounding Trooper SC-4341 comes to a close, you are forced to re-evaluate your own abilities as well as the motivations behind Kylo Ren's seemingly erratic behaviour.

SC-4341 died that night.

You were the only one in the medical ward to witness his passing. His breathing had been in a full rattle for hours, hideous and disturbing as he seemed to struggle for breath. You knew that it wasn't really a struggle—not with the morphine to slow his chest and shallow out each inhale. But the noise was still something that you had never been prepared for—the gurgling that occurred as air rushed over mucous in the throat. It was like seeing a fish out of water, slowly suffocating. Why you had brought yourself to watch, you didn't know. Maybe it was because Amena had gone to bed for a few hours, and you didn't want him to be alone when it was obvious that he had one foot already in the afterlife.

Eventually, the breaths had become further apart. Thirty seconds. A minute. And then at 3:42 in the morning, they stopped all together.

You entered the time into the computer monitor and then shut it off so that you could be left in the dark with the lifeless Trooper. All that you wanted to do was sit there in silence and let the tears run down your face as you stared up at the ceiling. You drew your legs to your chest and kept thinking about how this shouldn't have happened.

“I am such a failure,” you mumbled over and over again.

Quiet footsteps broke into your mantra, and you caught sight of Kylo Ren entering into the room. He didn't bother to turn the lights on but slowly walked to the foot of the bed, his hands leaning on the bed railing.

“I could feel him die,” Kylo said.

“Huh?”

He slipped away from the bed and walked over to where you were so that he could sit on the floor with his back against the wall. You were surprised to see him without his helmet anywhere near and without his usual black coat and attire. It was obvious that he had been relaxing or possibly even sleeping, seeing as how he was in a loose grey jumper and black pants that hadn't been fully tucked into his boots. His hair was a mess, waves sticking out in nearly every direction.

“It was the Force,” he explained. “You can feel it in each person. And you can feel it leave.”

You tried to dry the tears that had covered your face so that he couldn't see just how upset you were. Right now, all you wanted was some privacy, maybe a little emotional numbing, and a lot of silence.

Thankfully, Kylo was usually pretty good at keeping his mouth shut.

Letting out a long, struggling sigh, you gave him a little 'thank you' before staring out into space. Kylo seemed as glum as you did, though you couldn't imagine why. He pulled one leg up to his chest with the other straight out, just casual as he watched you. Watched those tears roll down the sides of your cheeks and back into your hair. Why did he have to watch you? Why did the hair on your neck and arms raise when he did that? Was it alarm? Why? _Why?_

It took a few minutes for Kylo to break the silence that hung between you. “He said 'thank you' as well.”

You looked over at him, slightly confused.

Kylo nodded toward the Trooper. “It was the last thing I could hear when I came by yesterday. He said 'thank you'.”

Your lip began to quiver, and you looked away from Kylo and back toward the ceiling, trying your damnedest to not break into a full sob before him. But you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but feel ashamed and angry and hopeless and so incredibly disappointed in yourself.

You felt Kylo's hand on your knee, giving a little squeeze, and you wanted to shake him off, but you also just wanted something alive to hold. You had been holding SC-4341's hand as he died, and it was so cold—so incredibly cold and weak. And here was Kylo, his warm palm against your knee, doing nothing and everything at the same time. Almost instinctively, you reached down, your hand on his, holding on for dear life.

“I tried so fucking hard,” you gasped, almost choking on the sobs that were ripping from your chest. “But I'm such a disappointment!”

Kylo didn't say a word, nor did he move. His hand just stayed there, gripping your knee every time you sobbed. You had worked your fingers in between his and continued to cry until your eyes burned and throat felt like it was on fire.

After a while, you finally felt him stir, and you saw Kylo stand up, your hand still in his.

“Go to bed,” he commanded. He pulled you from the chair and started to guide you from the Trooper's room. “You've been here long enough.”

“No, no.” You tried to get back into the room, but he blocked the doorway. Damn him being so tall and broad shouldered; you can't get past him at all. “I don't want Amena to discover him when she gets here in the morning. I don't want it to scare her. I don't want--”

“NO.” Kylo was holding onto your shoulders. “You're disgusting. Go get some sleep.”

“ _You_ get some sleep.” You tried to sound mean, but instead your voice just came out pathetically.

Kylo rolled his eyes. “I'll stay here and tell Amena. But if you don't leave, I will _make_ you.”

You stood there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. It was as if your mind just wouldn't work. You couldn't make any decisions. You were too tired, too upset, too fed up with everything that had been happening to you for weeks. The very ground beneath you was crumbling, and you were slipping through the cracks like water.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“Because I've seen death a thousand times without blinking an eye,” he replied. “You haven't.”

Kylo gently turned you around so that you were facing the entrance of the medical ward. The lights ahead seemed so bright, so cold and cheerless. You didn't want to walk forward, didn't want to move your feet even though you hungered for the release of sleep. It could be your own temporary death.

“I don't want to go,” you whispered.

He moved you down the hall with a small push against your back until you were on the other side of the medical ward's large, sliding doors. Releasing his grip on your shoulder and other hand on the middle of your back, Kylo stood at the doorway, once again blocking it so that you couldn't enter. He folded his arms over his chest, making sure to stand firmly so that you knew there was no getting past him, no fighting and clawing your way back into a dead man's room.

“Tell Amena that I'm sorry.”

“ _You're_ sorry?” he almost laughed. “I can guarantee that you've done nothing in your life to be sorry for.”

You had no idea what he meant by that, and you were too tired to ask. It was difficult enough to keep yourself together without breaking into sobs again, so you turned around and left him standing there. At first, it was just a stumbling walk, but then you gained momentum. You were running. Running as fast as it was possible to get away from everything and find the sanctuary of your cat, of your bed, of endless words to distract yourself. _Anything_ to distract yourself from this reality.

Thank God hardly anyone was around at this hour as you escaped to your apartment. You chanced a look at your watch; it was already past five in the morning. Troopers would be waking up now. You ran faster, making a sharp turn at the end of the 300s hallway where it connected to the other seven halls in a circular lobby. A few Troopers and personnel were already there, making their way to early-morning shifts. You slowed, not wanting to cause alarm or any more attention than was necessary.

As you turned down your own hallway, you saw a few of the captains ahead in their dark uniforms, and you recognised them immediately. What a strange coincidence that the two men who had originally offered you a contract to stay on this bloody satellite were now walking before you, as though everything had come horrifically full circle.

Captain Ardeus Stratoveer and his underling, Captain Halpin Maltolpol, were both making their way toward the command centre, looking mildly exhausted. You tried not to make eye-contact, tried to look down at your feet as you power walked. Captain Maltolpol, in all of his golden, friendly glory managed to give you a smile and 'good morning'. But Stratoveer didn't bother to hide his disgust at your appearance—at your hair being dirty and messy, the tears that were running down your cheeks, the red puffiness under your eyes.

“Don't fucking look at me,” you hissed whilst walking by. You didn't know if the words slipped from your lips because of his glaring or because of Kylo's influence on your opinion of the captain, but either way, it was said and done. Stratoveer stiffened and rolled his shoulders back as he kept walking, as though everything he did was a show of getting rid of your presence.

Whatever. They didn't matter.

After they had passed, you continued your running, this time at a full sprint down the hall until you were finally at your door. Getting inside, into the dark enclaves of your apartment where Pickles was waiting, was all that you wanted at this moment. Without bothering to turn on a single light, you let yourself fall into bed, dreading the moment you would awake.

* * *

 

Less than twenty four hours later, Talia had a new specimen in her office. She poked and prodded at the fresh brain that sat on a scale, and then she slowly, ever so carefully, began to slice it apart into thin sections.

You couldn't watch. It felt too personal. And you didn't understand how she could be humming to herself as that brain sat before her—a brain that had been inside of a living, breathing human being just a day before. How she did it and still slept at night was beyond you.

The strange thing about grief is that it can bend time to fit to its will. Not yours. Not anyone else's. Mourning seemed to carry you blindly through the following days. Sometimes, it felt as though you were in a slow fog, shrouded, lost. And then your attention would fade, making an hour feel like a minute. Every other moment was either hyper real or thoroughly numbing.

With the way that things were going, you had been tempted to skip eating dinner in the cafeteria and just haul up in your apartment where you could roll into your duvet. And that's what would have happened if you hadn't been abruptly stopped as you left yours and Talia's office. A strong hand was at your shoulder as you locked the office door, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Kylo Ren was there, his helmet held under one arm and his other hand moving to your back to usher you along down the hall.

“What...?” You weren't sure why he was there, but you also didn't mind all that much. If anything, his presence made you the happiest you had been in days, which struck you as odd. Of course, it was difficult to be _truly_ happy when in your current state, but it was something close.

“You haven't eaten today or yesterday.” Kylo didn't need to ask you. It was obvious by your tired eyes and hunched posture that you hadn't had a meal in a while.

“I haven't been hungry.”

He wrapped his arm so that his hand was at your waist, guiding you beside him. “That isn't a proper excuse.”

“I watched him die in front of me... Food is the last thing that I'm thinking of.”

Kylo stopped walking for a moment, his eyes scanning the hallway to see if anyone was around. You slipped from his hand that had been at your waist and had decided that now was your chance to leave and bolt for your apartment, but instead, Kylo pulled you closer so that his lips were at your ear, whispering.

“You will never forget the first person who dies in front of you.”

And then he let go, allowing you to take a step back. Frankly, you were slightly confused and possibly a little alarmed to think of just how many people had died in front of Kylo Ren.

“Do you remember yours?” you asked.

He nodded, grimacing. “Every day. But we aren't meant to forget.”

Then he started walking again and looked over his shoulder to see if you were following. Not really knowing what else to do with yourself, you scampered along to join him. He lead you to the cafeteria, where you thought he would leave since you had never once seen him eat around others, but instead, he entered with you, grabbed his own tray of food, and made sure that you sat down at the table in the third alcove with Captain Phasma and General Hux rather than at a very tempting table in the corner that was vacant.

Then, in a way that only Kylo Ren could have managed to make awkward, he sat down beside you.

Kylo's presence hadn't gone unnoticed. When he sat, the entire cafeteria hushed as Troopers and personnel alike watched him. Even Captain Phasma and Hux seemed surprised that he should join them, but Kylo pretended to not notice as he started to eat. Neither of them made a comment but continued their own conversation.

You were perfectly content to allow the awkwardness and focus be upon Kylo Ren. It was less eyes on you as you pushed food around your plate with your fork rather than eat it. Less people to ask you about the Trooper. Less people to tell you that you'd surely 'fix' the next ill Trooper—as though SC-4341 was just another link in the chain of human misery.

“Eat something,” Kylo urged between bites.

All that you could manage were a few bites of canned fruit and half a slice of bread, but apparently, that was enough to satisfy Kylo Ren who proceeded to not only eat his own food but finish the rest of yours as well. You didn't mind; it wasn't as though you were going to eat it, anyway. You just quietly held your face in your hands and watched him eat, watched as he made snarky comments to Hux and jokingly bickered with Phasma. The way that he smiled whilst talking to them sent your stomach into flips, and you weren't sure why. But every single time that his lips curled to show his teeth or his eyes crinkled as he delivered a particularly sarcastic come back, you started to grin. It was something that Kylo was completely aware of, which he made sure to mention as he walked with you back to your apartment.

“I wish that I could have been inside your head,” he said as you both stood before your front door. “Don't think that I didn't see you.”

“ _Yikes_ ,” you mumbled. “You _weren't_ in my head, were you?” You didn't want him to know that you were smiling at seeing him happy—especially when _you_ didn't even know why it had been so satisfying to see him that way.

“No. You would have known if I was.”

“Good. No one is allowed into my thoughts without my permission.”

“One day, I seek to have that permission.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don't hold your breath.”

He laughed, his mouth flashing a cocky smile, and you could feel yourself holding your _own_ breath. You bit at your bottom lip, eyebrows pulling together as you tried to figure out what in the hell he was doing to you. Was this the Force at work? Or was it something all together quite different?

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, and opened your door to step inside. Kylo made no move to follow you but lifted his helmet so that it was on his head, ready to hide that grinning face of his. You hated that damned mask more than usual this evening.

In one smooth motion, the helmet was on, his voice now a threatening rumble. “Until next time, Doctor.”

 

 **A/N:** Kind of a downer, eh? Initially, I had thought about having SC-4341 live through this ordeal of anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis, but it didn't seem like it would be believable. IDK, but I don't see folks from the Star Wars universe having access to Dr. Josep Dalmau's recent research from the University of Pennsylvania that would have allowed them to cure him. For those of you interested in more death and dying literature, I also recommend reading Sherwin Nuland's 'How We Die: Reflections on Life's Final Chapter'. It was required reading for my Death, Dying, and Grief in Older Adults course two years ago and is an excellent resource in understanding both the physical and emotional aspects of death by various circumstances. You can also check out Atul Gawande's 'Being Mortal' documentary that was produced by Frontline (PBS) a year ago. It is well worth an hour of your time and can be watched for free on the PBS website: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/film/being-mortal/


	11. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo really hates Captain Stratoveer; you really hate how disappointed you are in yourself. What you both need is a distraction.

Nobody had warned you that mourning could be a full time job in and of itself. Even though you were back to the grind of research—collecting data, interviewing Storm Troopers, watching them train—it still was only accounting for half of your mental state. The other half was used to beat yourself up over and over again about watching SC-4341 slip through your fingers. This torment had gone on for a week, and you had tried your best to distract yourself from the thoughts. You worked harder and for longer hours. You forced yourself to go to dinner with the upper echelons of the First Order. And you began to spend more time following around Kylo Ren.

Okay, so actually, _you_ weren't following Kylo Ren all that much. It was more that you both just seemed to be in the same places at the same times far more often, and you weren't completely sure as to why. Hell, maybe it was actually Kylo following _you_. After all, he now was showing up near daily at the dinner table in the cafeteria. But you didn't want to think that you were the full reason. Maybe he had realised how interesting it could be to listen to Phasma and Amena have indepth conversation, or maybe he had realised that seeing Hux and Talia in the same vicinity was excellent fodder for later making fun of Hux. You didn't really know. You just knew that he was there.

And you knew that, in an unfamiliar way, you actually enjoyed his presence.

Granted, he wasn't always a joy to be around. Kylo was the king of tantrums, which you would often hear about after the fact—usually after having seen a gaggle of Storm Troopers scurry away from whatever room or thing was being destroyed. And he was moody, reckless. Sometimes he would show up at your apartment just to rant. He said that he was there to distract you, to make sure that you were eating and taking care of yourself. But he seemed to need you as much as you needed him in that time of mourning. Somehow, the whole relationship had become rather symbiotic.

So when you heard a metallic thudding against your door during the evening that sent Pickles once again running under your bed, you weren't all that surprised to find Kylo Ren on the other side. His helmeted head was slowly hitting against the door, as though he was too miserable to even knock.

He seemed a mess, but the entirety of his life was a mess, from what you could gather. So it was par for the course.

As he stood in your doorway, you immediately noticed that his clothes smelled of burning metal.

“What did you do?”

He didn't answer for a short while and refused to look at you. Was he embarrassed? Hopefully. “Room 842 is no longer in service.”

“Are you serious?”

Kylo unlocked the bottom mechanisms of his helmet and tossed it aside with a metallic thud to your floor, no doubt leaving a dent. He took a few steps into your apartment, stopping at the kitchen and looking ready to tear something in two. His lightsaber was still in one hand, hot and threatening. That happened to be the last thing you wanted in your home when he was angry.

“Ren, what the hell?” you groaned.

“Not you, too,” he mumbled whilst hooking his lightsaber to his belt.

“What?”

“ _'Ren'_ is the first word out of everyone's mouths after they have decided to despise me.” His hands were at his hair, tugging in his annoyed anger.

“I don't _despise_ you. You already know that.” Why did he have to be so ridiculous? You reached up to grab his hands and pull them down to his sides, making him keep still. “Stop that.”

Kylo growled. “I want to kill him.” He pulled his hands from your grip so that he could rub at his forehead. “And I could. You _know_ I could. I could kill him.”

“You're not killing anyone. At least not tonight.”

You pointed Kylo in the direction of your couch, just a little past the kitchenette and facing opposite of your bed. One of the perks of a studio apartment was that you could keep your eyes on everything inside. Of course, that also meant that you couldn't escape from watching Kylo Ren angrily flop onto your couch, cursing and nearly boiling over in his rage. He lied on his stomach, his head buried into a throw pillow.

“I could kill him!” he roared with his face still pressed against the pillow, muffling his voice. You rolled your eyes and crossed the apartment to sit in your easy chair that was shoved into the corner beside the couch.

“Eventually, you're going to have to get over Stratoveer,” you mentioned.

Kylo lifted his head, sending you a nasty glare. “If you were even _remotely_ aware of what he has done, you would take my lightsaber into your own hands to kill him.”

“I'm sure.”

He twisted from your couch, long legs knocking over a stack of books that had been haphazardly piled beside him, and they tumbled across the floor.

“ _Damn it fucking shit_ ,” he sputtered. Kylo started stacking the books back on top of one another, slamming each book as hard as he could.

You watched the scene before you, tapping your foot and raising an eyebrow. It took about all of your effort to keep a neutral face and not break into laughter as he knocked over a second stack of books.

“You need a damned book case!” he growled after having set the books back in their various stacks on the floor.

“Kylo...” you said, purposely using his first name. He flinched ever so slightly. “Why are you _actually_ here?” Why did he actually _ever_ come to your apartment?

He leaned back on your couch, trying to think of how to explain himself. “Because I couldn't think of anywhere else to go... Anyone else to go to.”

Somehow you doubted that. Didn't he have a bunker where he could storm off?

But then, maybe he didn't _want_ to let his anger take complete control of him. Maybe he was here for no other reason than because he knew that you would stop him from destroying yet another control room.

“So you chose me,” you whispered.

Kylo caught your eyes, refusing to break contact so that you both were in some sort of strange staring match, just waiting for one person to blink or break to look at anything else in the apartment.

“Yes. I chose you.”

“I suppose you expect me to feel honoured that _I_ should be the one you go to when seeking comfort?”

“That wasn't my intent,” he huffed.

Whatever. You weren't going to argue with him when he was angry. You just wanted to see him calm back down and be smiling or laughing. Such rare moments, but God, you couldn't get enough of them.

Kylo eventually rolled onto his back so that he was staring up at the ceiling. “It would have been better if I had trained _you_ instead of Stratoveer.”

You had pulled a book into your lap by this time, already flipping through the pages to find where you had last left off. “But you're still refusing to tell anyone about me, so that's not really an option.”

He was refusing to tell Snoke about you. Whoever that was. You had kept your word to never utter the name, but forgetting it all together was a different matter.

“Just... Distract me,” Kylo asked of you. “Anything. Do your babbling about statistics or whatever in the hell it is you enjoy. I just don't want to think of this.”

You shrugged. That was fine by you. So you started reading your book aloud, not caring if Kylo Ren actually understood what the subject material was about. The book had been a gift from an old professor about some migrant colony floating through space, each member slowly dying with no one to replenish their aging population. It was an older book, but that didn't make it any less interesting. You found yourself occasionally commenting on what was written and tapping a finger at good quotes. Sometimes Kylo would respond. Eventually, he was just silent. And after having read over forty pages out loud to him, you realised that Kylo had long since fallen asleep.

You quietly set the book down on one of the many piles that surrounded you and stood up. He seemed so peaceful lying there on the couch, his head slightly turned to the side on a pillow as his thick hair draped from his face. And his face... you had never seen him look more calm, more content.

You wondered if you should wake him, but that seemed cruel. Maybe he would need a blanket? But what if that woke him up? What if it scared him out of sleep enough that he would instantly use the Force? As beautifully serene as he was in this moment, it didn't negate the fact that Kylo Ren was a fierce weapon. He was dangerous. And you were fragile in comparison.

So you decided to do nothing. Or, well, _almost_ nothing. You set a folded blanket on the end of the couch by his feet so that, if he awoke feeling cold, then at least he would have something to cover himself with.

And then, you quietly crept past him and made your way to bed.

When you awoke in the morning, you were slightly disappointed to find your couch empty. He was gone. Had he ever actually been there? For a few seconds, you sat in your bed with groggy eyes and hair in your face, not quite able to remember what had happened. But then the memories came rushing back, and you knew that he had been here.

You also knew rather quickly that something else was missing along with Kylo Ren.

“Wait, where the fuck's my extra blanket?”

* * *

 

“What if I tried to train you in the Force? Right here. Right now. Impromptu?”

It was a few days later, and you had been sitting at your kitchen table for the past hour, entering code from old paper charts into a tablet computer for analysis when Kylo meandered over from where he had been sitting on your couch. He had been pretending to read a book for the past ten minutes. You said 'pretending', because every time you glanced up from your research, he was quickly turning back to your book as though he hadn't been staring at you.

Slowly, you set the tablet down and placed it on top of the papers beside you. “This isn't just a sleazy ploy for you to see into my mind, is it?”

Kylo spat a sarcastic laugh. “No. You'd be in _my_ mind.”

“Really now?” That was surprising.

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the kitchen table. “You've shown aptitude in using the Force to read people, so _read_ me. Try your damnedest.”

You leaned forward as well until your faces were only a few inches away. “If I actually _do_ get into your mind, you won't be upset, will you?”

He flashed a smile. “You won't get in; I'm not worried.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Concentrating as hard as you could, you focused on Kylo's face, just taking in every feature in the hopes that something would be revealed. That's what you were supposed to do, right? Just naturally feel your way to the Force? You didn't really know, but it _seemed_ like the right thing to do.

“What are you doing with your face?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

“I'm concentrating.”

“No,” he sighed. Kylo brought his fingers to your face, smoothing the wrinkles that had appeared on your forehead. “Relax.”

That was difficult to accomplish with his fingers still on your face, burning into your skin. But you unclenched your jaw and let out a long breath.

“That's better,” he said. He tenderly moved his hands so that they were on either side of your face, cupping your jaw, and you could feel your heart racing from the touch. How in the hell were you supposed to relax when he was holding onto you like this and staring into your eyes? Damn him! You flickered your attention away from him for just a moment, looking over his shoulder. Maybe it would calm your speeding pulse or the strange flips in your stomach.

“Look back to me,” he commanded in a low whisper.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his again, trying not to blink, trying to keep your breathing steady, trying anything to appear calm.

“Now what?” you asked.

Kylo's eyes were drilling into yours. It would have terrified anyone else; hell, it _should_ have terrified you. But it didn't. Instead, a tingle was running up and down your spine, sending shivers down your arms from that piercing stare. And you were transfixed; you couldn't have torn away if you had even wanted to.

“Now, tell me what you feel.”

You felt shivers and slight anxiety and honestly, you didn't know what the hell you felt because everything was confusing and overwhelming. And there was a chance that you could have told him this, could have babbled that you felt your pulse pounding beneath his fingers and couldn't concentrate on how to even function like a normal human being. But as you opened your mouth, you heard the strangest of hums.

At first, the humming was like that of an electrical box, just a low, steady stream of noise. But the humming also seemed like a feeling, as though the sound was being perceived as a tactile sense. Was this some kind of synesthesia? Were you seriously nervous enough that you were hallucinating? Or...

“There's a hum,” you finally whispered.

“What else?”

You wanted to shake your head, shake his fingers off from your jaw, as though it would help you understand what was happening. But you knew better than to move. _Something_ was happening; it was no longer deniable. Whether or not it was the Force, you didn't know, but whatever the combined humming vibration was, it was now growing stronger. You felt it. Heard it. Could _almost_ see it like the glow of embers or starlight in your periphery.

“It's like all my senses are coming together,” you said. There was no telling if Kylo would understand what you meant, but it was the only way to describe the feeling. The smallest of reactions fluttered across his face, his eyes becoming less severe in their gaze. They were almost... surprised.

And all at once, like a flash of blinding light, you saw two worlds at once. One was what you sensed, what you could perceive directly before you of Kylo's face, of his dark eyes looking into yours, his hair in waves that crashed around his face. And then there was another world—a shadowy vision world of sorts. In this world, you could see yourself from across the table, see Kylo's fingers at your jaw, see the opposite side of the room. It was as though you were seeing out of his eyes, but something about the scene didn't seem real.

_Well, of course it didn't seem real_ , you thought. It was as real as an out-of-body experience, which is to say not real at all.

But soon it became obvious to you why this second world seemed so out of place. It was because it wasn't actually happening.

One set of senses still felt Kylo's hands staying in place, his thumbs by your chin and fingers along your jaw. But what you saw was different, was fictitious. You watched as Kylo's fingers slipped past your jaw and into your hair, wrapping around the nape of your neck. And then he was moving forward, inch by inch, until there was no space left between you at all. Until you could feel his breath against your skin and fingers twisting and digging into your hair.

The shock of seeing through Kylo Ren's eyes, seeing what he was _thinking_ , seeing what he _wished_ of the future wasn't nearly as strong of a shock as being ripped away from that other world. All at once, Kylo's hands had snapped away from your face, and he had tumbled out of his chair and onto the floor. You felt as though you were suddenly sucked back into your own body as you saw him fall in his attempt to get away from you. He was nearly panting, eyes wide and alarmed—scared, _angry_. His face had contorted into a hideous scowl as he tried to pick himself off the floor.

“Kylo--” Your voice caught in your throat. He refused to look at you as you stayed seated at the table. Long strides quickly took him to where he had set his helmet by the door, and all at once, he had pulled the helmet over his messy hair, over his pained and confused face, and he was running out of the door and into the hallway.

In only a matter of seconds, you were alone, your mouth still slightly ajar as you tried to figure out what exactly had just happened. You had felt it—had felt the Force. It was real. All of it. And not only that, but you had slipped into Kylo Ren's mind, had seen the thought that must have been playing at that very moment. Your heart was racing at the realisation, and it felt as though your stomach was made of lead and trying to plummet through your body in some sort of shock.

No, not shock. Shock wasn't what you felt. You didn't even know if there was a _word_ for what you felt.

All you knew was that you had done it. You had used the Force to enter into someone else's thoughts. And the first thought that you had ever witnessed was of Kylo Ren wanting nothing more than to kiss you.

 

**Glossary:**

Synesthesia: a relatively common cognitive phenomena where the various senses overlap or are replaced by one another. Synesthetes may hear colour or taste numbers or any other sort of mix up of senses. It is thought to affect about 1 in every 21 people and is possibly caused by mixed neuronal firing in the brain (think of mixed wires on an old school telephone—PARTY LINE!). I personally have spatio-temporal synesthesia, meaning that I see days of the week as three dimensional structures. Wednesday is very large and tall with a slight curve at the top. Sunday is the smallest. Friday stretches for a long while. None of this makes any sense whatsoever to anyone who is not a synesthete.

 

**A/N:** I'm not screaming; _you're_ screaming.


	12. Playing with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is playing with fire as he tries to be loyal to the Dark side of the Force whilst coming to terms with his infatuation with you. As he is about to leave for a multi-week training session with Supreme Leader Snoke, a confrontation ensues to determine where he and you stand.

In a cavernous hall within the Starkiller Base was a hologram projector, its base nearly thirty metres square and potential height for the hologram to tower at nearly forty metres. It was a monster of a room, darkly lit and with a long pathway to reach its centre. Not many people knew of this room—of what dark secrets were held within it. The people who _did_ know of its secrets were so enmeshed in the First Order that fear alone worked to keep the room and its meanings hidden from speech. No one spoke of the room, of the hologram, and (especially) no one spoke of the person whose image was projected.

Kylo Ren had marched uneasily into the room. It was a journey into darkness that he had taken so many times before, but at this moment, he could feel his heart trying to break free from his chest from the anxiety. _This_ time, he wasn't coming in to merely take orders and report back on how they had gone. _This_ time, he was coming clean. It was a confession.

The blue hologram sputtered into life to reveal an ancient, hideously scarred man sitting in a chair. He peered down at Kylo Ren, suspicious of the young man before him.

“I did not ask for you.” His voice was gravel and menace personified.

Ren nodded, glad that his mask could conceal some of the emotions that were rippling across his face. The scarred man would still be able to use the Force to know how Ren felt, but it was at least the smallest of comforts.

“No, you did not,” Kylo Ren replied, his voice in the familiar rumble under the helmet. “But there is something that needs to be discussed.”

The hologrammed man leaned forward, dust particles in the air shimmering as he moved. “You have hidden something, Ren?”

He made no movement, not even a nod.

“There's a woman on board the satellite,” he started. “She is sensitive to the Force.”

“How long have you known?”

“Two months.”

“And you waited _two months_ to reveal this information, because?”

Kylo Ren adjusted nervously on his feet. He could feel the muscles in his back aching with stress, could feel his pulse in his ears. “Because I have been interested in her... in her abilities.”

The man leaned in even closer, a judging eye upon Kylo Ren. He didn't appear to be upset but only curious. A few seconds passed as he took in the sight of Ren and allowed him to squirm in his nervousness.

“This woman... has she received training?”

“No.”

“Does she pose any threat to the First Order?”

“No. Not physically. She is harmless.”

“ _'Not physically_ '?” He repeated Ren's words. “But that is not _all_ that the Force is used for, Ren. Don't allow your _interest_ to sway you from the bigger task at hand.”

“I wouldn't.”

“Of course not.” The hologram sat back up in his chair, a hand at his chin as he stared down his nose to where Kylo Ren stood by his feet. “You are different. Stronger. I have faith that you will use her as you should, and nothing more will come of it.”

Kylo Ren slowly nodded, his arm across his chest as he gave a bow. “Yes... I will, Supreme Leader Snoke.”

* * *

You jolted awake from a dream so abruptly that Pickles hissed and leapt from your bed and onto the couch at the opposing wall in the living room. Panting, you sat up in a tangle of blankets. Cold sweat was dripping from every inch of your body, soaking through the tank top that you had worn to bed.

The dream... it had felt so real, so dangerous. _Deadly_. And yet, there was so little that you could remember, even seconds later. The only part of the dream that stuck with you was a face—this terrible, disfigured face that had glowed as though doused in moon light. You felt as though that face _knew_ you, knew every single thing about you—every thought and feeling, memory and motivation. It was a haunting specter that burned into your mind.

Lazily, you rolled out of bed, no longer feeling at all tired. Your alarm clock wasn't supposed to go off for another two hours, but you started making breakfast, fed Pickles, put on a pair of pants and socks since the metal floor tended to get so damned cold. It could have been any other morning for how normally you went through the process, but your mind was scattered, running in little circles like a mouse on a wheel.

You hadn't seen Kylo Ren in four days—not since you had managed to peer inside of his mind and see what he had truly wanted. Which, as it would happen, was _you_. _You_ were what Kylo wanted, and that fact was mind-boggling. You had spent the past few days wishing desperately to talk to him about it—to see how he felt and just understand what he was going through. But he wasn't on the satellite at all. Maybe he was too embarrassed, too afraid that you had actually gone inside of his mind. And, really, that all seemed rather stupid of him, because, if you were going to be honest with yourself, seeing that thought of his hadn't actually changed your opinion of him. You weren't going to 'make things awkward' for him—weren't going to tell anyone.

So what? Big deal. He wanted to kiss you. Now would he just get his handsome self back on the satellite already? This show of avoidance was driving you crazy.

And that's the thing: you didn't even know _why_ it was driving you insane waiting for him. Why did he get to weigh so heavily on your mind when considering that he was such a dramatic, insolent arse half the time? Didn't your mind have _other_ things to focus on right now? Like the Troopers' mystery dementia or entering the statistical data that was still piled on your kitchen table? Why did your brain always choose _him_ to think about?

_“I chose you.”_

Kylo Ren's words echoed in your head.

“I guess I chose you, too,” you mumbled whilst chewing on a bite of toast.

How in the hell had this happened?

You ended up walking to the office rather early, eager to work through Mickella's compiled research and Byrt's analysis rather than face your own problems. Sitting on your desk were two electronic drives, just waiting to be plugged into your computer. You fiddled around with the data for a while, mentally reminding yourself to thank the research assistants for their help. You had barely seen them lately, what with hiding out in your apartment with research rather than spending time in the office. Mickella may have been annoying because of her severe social anxiety, and Byrt may be a little too quiet and enthusiastic about the First Order because of his family's ties to the organisation, but at heart they were good kids. Kinda fucking weird kids, but they meant well.

A few hours had gone by as you sorted through their data and started taking down your own notes, when Talia entered the office. She waved her hand, not bothering to speak. You couldn't help but notice that her face was puffy and red. The hazel in her eyes seemed to shimmer, which you quickly realised were tears. You swiveled around in your chair, watching her try to keep her face from falling apart in front of you.

“Talia, what's wrong?”

“Me? Nothing,” she squeaked while pushing her face up against her microscope. But tears were leaking from her eyes too quickly, and she had to push away from the eyepiece.

“You're really bad at lying,” you tried to joke. You scooted your rolling chair with your foot so that you were seated in front of her. Grabbing her thin hands in yours, you gave a sad smile. “Tell me what's the matter.”

She lifted her face toward the ceiling, trying to keep more tears from flooding down her cheeks. “It's Hux, damn him!”

Oh. So this was going to be one of _those_ kinds of conversations.

“He's always oscillating between hot and cold like he can't make up his fucking mind about me, and now he's on board again for the first time in two days, only to tell me to 'temporarily forget about' him since he'll be gone at some First Order training thing for two weeks with Ren, and he's always giving me these mixed signals. Because, like, he tried to hold my hand as he told me goodbye but was also telling me that whatever in the hell we have isn't real or something, and I just... God, he's such a shit head!”

Well, that hadn't been what you were expecting, but it certainly explained her tears.

“Yes. Yes, well, I suppose that comes with the territory of someone like Hux,” you said while patting her back. You weren't really sure what else to say, because you were about 99% certain that they would just be together like nothing happened once Hux returned to base in two weeks.

Talia continued babbling and crying and cursing in front of you, but it was difficult to take in any of what she said because your mind had gone back to its number one favourite subject: Kylo Ren. You didn't like hearing that he, too, was going on the training mission for two weeks with General Hux. Four days had been difficult enough to get through without seeing him, so two weeks... No. Two more weeks was _not_ going to happen if you could help it.

Excusing yourself from Talia, who had now taken to loudly typing out her anger on her computer, you headed toward the command centre of the satellite. If Hux was still on board for another hour, then Kylo may as well, and it was worth a try to see him.

Navigating your way to central command, there seemed to be an unusual amount of commotion for a morning shift. Usually, it was pretty quiet during this time, but Storm Troopers were everywhere, rushing to follow orders as they made their way to one of the satellite's ship hangers. Obviously, Kylo and Hux weren't the only ones who were preparing to leave the satellite for a while.

Pushing yourself out of the way beside an unoccupied control panel, you caught sight of Captain Phasma, who was busy giving commands to a few personnel. She saw you from across the room and gave a nod before heading over. Phasma seemed rather stressed, but you appreciated that she would take the time to talk to you.

“What all is going on?” you asked.

“An emergency mission near Hosnian Prime,” she responded. You recognised the name; it was the capital of the New Republic. “And it comes at bad timing when Kylo Ren will be doing some personal training.”

“Is he still here?” you asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

Phasma nodded, and you could tell that she was grinning from beneath her helmet. “Not for long, though. He may be in the hanger. Go quickly.”

“Thanks!” you called, and you were already running back down the 100s hallway as fast as your feet could take you. You reached the domed centre of the satellite and started taking a flight of stairs two at a time before running down yet another very wide hall that should take you to the satellite's hanger.

You had only traveled this hallway once, and it had been when you first arrived on the satellite, but you were fairly sure that you were taking the right twists and turns. After all, you could follow the Storm Troopers; they all seemed to know where they were going. But every part of the hallway looked the same—the same metal and pipes running along the ceiling and electronic panels, the same florescent lights and aluminium tiling. And just as you began to panic that you had made a wrong turn and must be getting lost, you saw the giant sliding doors with 'HANGER' painted boldly over them, and you ran through.

The hanger was nearly five storeys in height, taking up a considerable amount of room within the satellite, and it was full of all kinds of ships—none of which you could remember the names of. But you saw a large, black ship with two wings pointed horizontally above it, and you knew without a doubt that it would be Kylo Ren's. You didn't know _how_ you knew; you just did. Running past moving carts and vehicles and plenty of Troopers, you headed towards it, searching in every direction for Kylo.

You skidded to a halt directly before the ship's open docking ramp, hoping that he would have to walk past you to get on board. But you heard your name from inside and glanced up to see Kylo Ren standing inside the ship, helmet on and hood up. He quickly walked down the ramp and took your hand, leading you behind it so that you were out of sight.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Even with the voice modifier, he still sounded shocked.

“Were you really going to leave for two weeks and not even speak to me?”

He turned his head away, feeling guilty and flustered. “What you saw--”

“I know what I saw! Stop being a baby about it!” You weren't embarrassed that he wanted to kiss you, so why was he? “Can we just talk? Can you take your helmet off and speak to me like we're both adults?”

He groaned but removed the helmet, revealing a frown. His face was flushed, eyebrows wrinkled in his agitation. “I should have been more careful—should have trained you responsibly rather than let you go and...”

“And what? See what you were thinking?” _See what you desired?_ “Kylo, it's... it's all right.”

He let out a long, anxious sigh. “I'm... a very private person.”

“Yes, I figured that out already. That's why you've been avoiding me for the past four days.”

“In my defence, I was on the Starkiller Base for two of those. I had _business_ to attend to.” Whatever the business had been, he seemed rather foul about it and groaned. His gloved hands were at his hair, pulling it back from his face as he tried to calm down.

“Hey...” You pulled his hands back down, holding onto them. Kylo glanced down at your hands as you swung them gently side to side, and he held on as well. “I didn't come here to make you feel bad. I came to say goodbye. Or to ask that you not stay away for so long, because four days felt like an eternity.”

His lips tugged into half of a smile as he looked down at you, and he gave your hands a squeeze. “I'll be back in two weeks,” he said. “And... I'll start dropping by again. Will that make you happy?”

You nodded. “Does it make _you_ happy?”

This time, he smiled in earnest, and your heart may as well have leapt from your chest.

“Yes,” he replied.

You both stood there for a few seconds, grinning at one another without quite knowing what to do. An intercom from the ship announced departure, and Kylo glanced over to where General Hux and Captain Stratoveer were making final commands before boarding.

Letting go of your hands, he took a little step to the side. “I should be leaving--”

But the words couldn't finish coming out of his mouth, because at that moment, you had laced your hands around his neck and, stepping on tip toes, had pressed your lips to his. For a split second, he stiffened, not knowing where to put his hands or what to do, and then all at once, his hands were at your back, pulling you closer to his body. And he was kissing you back, lips full and soft against yours. His kisses were breathy, fast, greedy. He wanted more and more of you as one hand slipped to your hair and cradled the back of your head. And then you felt his teeth pulling gently at your bottom lip, nibbling just enough to make you let out a little gasp. You could tell that he was grinning as he started to pull away from you, leaving just an inch between your lips.

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in a blush, and you bit at your lip, giggling, to see that Kylo was just as flushed. Slowly, you fell from the tips of your toes so that you were well below his face—below his lips that you already wanted to kiss again.

Kylo's chest was heaving as he pulled you close to him in a hug, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. You buried your head into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his coat.

“Two weeks,” you whispered into his ear. “And then you'll be back.”

He nodded whilst still holding onto you. “Yes.”

Another call came over the intercom of the ship, and you broke away from Kylo's hug to take a step back. He was smiling at you as he tugged his helmet over his head and pulled his hood over it.

“You should go back into the hallway before the airlock is unsealed,” he mentioned before making his way to the entrance ramp of his ship. You gave a little nod and a smile, and starting to laugh to yourself, ran back to the hallway. You bolted up the flights of stairs to the domed lobby and then all the way to your apartment.

Completely out of breath, you leaned against your front door once inside and slowly slid down to the floor as Pickles came to greet you. He gave a chirping purr as you ran your hand over his back, and you felt yourself smiling like an absolute fool. Thank God cats couldn't judge you, because the next two weeks were going to be a hell of a waiting game.

 

 **A/N:** I made a playlist on Youtube for this chapter, which you can find [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbcAvzlqVfw&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhY7qwGWXET20C1rs5fPS9CC).


	13. Forgive Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days pass with Kylo Ren and General Hux gone for training, leaving you distracted but still determined to solve the medical mystery on board with Talia. Resolving to stop living a half life while waiting, you take a night for yourself only to have it interrupted.

Never before had time seemed to move so slowly as it did over the next two weeks.

The day that Kylo Ren was supposed to return loomed in the distance, catching your every thought. That kiss sat on your lips like a ghost of a memory, wishing to be alive, to be free. You wanted nothing more than to see him again, to run your fingers through his wild hair and bring his face to yours. How you were supposed to wait two weeks was beyond you. It may as well have been a millennia.

Days passed like years as you tried to keep yourself busy at your office. Thankfully, Talia was in an equally as bizarre mental state, so neither of you were willing to get onto one another's case when you were both staring off into literal space.

Though just because the two of you were practically brain dead for the first couple of days didn't mean that everyone else was. Life was back to normal for most people on the satellite, especially after Captain Phasma had returned to base from the emergency mission. Everyone was back to the familiar grind in time. Everyone except for you.

“Look what I have!” Talia hummed as she stepped into the office carrying a heavy aluminium cooler. It had been a week since Kylo Ren, General Hux, and Captain Stratoveer had left for a training mission, and Talia had just finally gotten back to her normal self.

You rolled your chair over to the cooler, feeling pretty certain that you knew what was inside.

“Fresh brains!” Talia cheered whilst opening the cooler. A wave of cold air rolled out and sunk to the floor by your feet, and Talia pulled out a specimen with heavily gloved hands.

“Talia, you do realise that getting a fresh batch of Trooper brains means that those Troopers had to _die_ on their mission, right?”

She shrugged. “While you _are_ correct, there are more important things to consider.” She transferred the frozen brain over to a scale, watching the grams add up. “For instance, this brain is 965 grams and came from a 39 year old male. Very under weight. _That_ is important!”

You rolled your eyes and carefully removed a second brain from the cooler to place on another scale, noting down its weight and appearance at your computer. Nothing out of the ordinary with this one from what you could see, but you were sure that Talia would still want to view it under the microscope.

Talia was already taking a scalpel to the first brain to remove a small section of grey matter and placed it in a liquid fixative between two glass slides with a small drop of dye. Then she quickly placed the brain in its entirety back into the cooler. She slipped the slide into her microscope and began to move it around.

“If you could cut me some histological sections, that would be great,” she mentioned, still adjusting the microscope's lens.

You glanced down at the brain in front of you and started to make a careful cut, pulling a millimetre squared size of brain tissue onto a glass slide for Talia. Handing it to her, she readied it for viewing and placed it under a second microscope.

“Take a look,” she said, motioning for you to come over.

Peering into the second microscope, you saw the tiny sliver of brain that you had cut. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Bright pink cells floated in the fixative and dye, forever paused in time. Although dead, they seemed to have been perfectly healthy.

Then you rolled your chair over to the second microscope and immediately understood why Talia was so interested. The cells were atrophied, shrivelled or completely dead save for a few cells every now and then.

Talia was watching you, her arms folded against her stomach and an excited smile on her face. “Get this: that Trooper? He'd also reported muscle weakness and balance issues, and he'd been reprimanded twice in the past month for inappropriate behaviour. And that sample you're looking at? Frontal lobe deterioration. He was a walking time bomb for developing this full-blown mystery dementia.”

You leaned back, taking everything in. So his frontal lobe was severely damaged, which explained why he may not be able to control his actions—why he would find himself in trouble so often. “But he was otherwise normal?”

Talia shrugged and searched the Trooper's numerical name into her computer's medical search engine. “He saw a ton of battle, but I mean, that's the same for _all_ Storm Troopers. And, sure, he'd been injured in a lot of them. But again, par for the course.”

You started to read the Trooper's file on Talia's computer, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

_Concussion_ _(grade 3)_ _, shattered femur, concussion_ _(grade 3)_ _,_ _undefined shrapnel injury, acute insomnia, concussion (grade 2), numbness in left foot, gait disturbance._

There was a note in his file that had been written only two months before by Dr Amena.

_Patient describes numbness on left side, poor balance. Reflexes within normal range. Gait unstable for first two steps when walking down hall. Follow up recommended._

“Talia, what if this isn't a disease?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hear me out. It _looks_ like a disease. Looks eerily similar to any other form of dementia that either of us have encountered. But what if it isn't? What if it's something else all together?”

“Something environmental?”

“I don't know,” you admitted. “But maybe we've been searching in the wrong direction all this time.”

Once again, you were drawn to the list of his past medical treatments, seeing _concussion_ written three times. Maybe it was because you had so recently had a similarly as severe concussion, but the word flashed out like a beacon.

 _Concussions_... Maybe. Maybe it was the concussions. 

* * *

 

Two weeks of waiting finally came to a close only for you to _continue_ to wait.

Kylo Ren's ship hadn't returned at the end of two weeks, and from what you could gather, no one was certain when he and the others would be back from training. Wherever they were, it was being kept a mighty secret, and not even Captain Phasma had any details or correspondence with them.It didn't necessarily worry you that no one had heard from Kylo Ren nor General Hux since they had left. If anyone was capable of keeping themselves alive, it would probably be the two of them. Whether or not Captain Stratoveer would come back intact was another matter, but you weren't too concerned. If Kylo blew up in the Captain's face and managed to scare him into submission, maybe it would be for the best.

So the fourteenth day came and went.

And then the fifteenth.

And then the sixteenth.

By the seventeenth day, you had begun to accept that the days didn't matter. He would be back eventually, and you would just have to deal with it. Resigning yourself to a life of waiting wasn't going to help you. It wasn't going to make this research go faster or more efficiently. It wasn't going to make you happy. You had to keep moving.

So that night, you told yourself that it would be a night for you. You and Pickles, actually. Turning on some music, you changed into an over-sized jumper and pyjama shorts and wore the most obnoxious socks you could find. You made dinner, threw fake mice at Pickles as he dashed across the floor and slid after them, did a little dancing in front of the mirror on your closet door—just anything that made you feel all right with your state of being. It was the kind of night that reminded you of when you had been younger, when you had been a student rather than a full-fledged adult out in the world.

You had been sliding across the metal floor to the beat of a song with Pickles chasing after you when an unexpected knock at the door broke through your revelry. You nearly slid into a pile of books with a skid, and Pickles dashed to hide behind your easy chair where he could curl into the corner without being seen.

You glanced at your mirror on your way to the door. Your hair was a bit messy, and your jumper was large enough that you looked like a child wearing their parent's clothes. Plus, your knee-high socks were bright enough to be their own emergency signal. But you shrugged. It was late. Whoever it was wouldn't be expecting you to be professional, or at least you hoped they wouldn't be.

Opening the door a crack, you felt your face turn from a question into a smile before even realising the cause.

Directly before you was Kylo Ren, wearing his all black and helmet as though nothing had changed at all since he had been gone.

“You're back!” You couldn't help but be grinning from ear to ear as you opened your door wider. Butterflies had started to fly around in your stomach at the sight of him, and you felt the back of your legs get a chill.

Kylo gave a small nod and removed his helmet at your doorway. His hair was instantly everywhere—covering half of his face and twisting about. He looked tired but strangely satisfied at seeing you. His dark brown eyes took in your outfit, slowly moving over each part of your body.

There were those chills again.

“Yes. Finally back,” he sighed.

You rocked on the heels of your stockinged feet, biting at your lip. “So... How did the training go?”

“Terrible,” Kylo replied, taking a few steps further inside of your house and dumping his helmet, gloves, and hooded cloak onto your kitchen table. It had really become a catch-all by this point.

“Terrible?” Was this all because he had been trapped with Hux and Stratoveer the whole time? You shut the door and began to follow him into your kitchen.

“Yes, because _you_ wouldn't get out of my mind.”

“Oh.” Your face felt like it was on fire.

Kylo stepped directly in front of you and ran his hands through your hair so that his fingers could lace together at the nape of your neck and wrists rest on your shoulders. He let out a long huff of a sigh but was grinning. “You don't know what you did to me... What you caused with that kiss.”

Kylo gently rested his forehead against yours, letting the tips of your noses touch.

You didn't even know what to say by this point. Any words that fled your lips may as well have been mumbles in another language. “Hopefully I didn't cause anything bad to happen, then?”

“No...” His voice was so incredibly deep, even in a whisper, and you felt shivers roll down your spine. There was a certain danger to that voice of his, but it was the kind of danger that became a temptation to the curious.

And you had always been one with quite the curiosity.

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat from having him so close. Slowly, you held onto his arms, letting your left hand slide up to meet his fingers and bring them out of your hair and to your cheek.

“Did I distract you?” you asked. You hoped that you had—that thoughts of you had played through his sleepless mind rather than his anger at everyone else around him. Maybe then the both of you would be even since he had never left your mind.

“You have no idea,” he replied. You could feel his breath against your chin, rolling down your neck.

“Good.” And you stretched forward, letting your lips meet again for the first time in over two very, very long weeks.

At first, Kylo only kissed you back softly, tenderly. It was as though you were something delicate that he feared harming. He brought his hands to your jaw and held your head secure so that he could kiss you again before letting his lips hover over yours. You could feel his lips move against yours as he spoke out in breathy whispers.

“How in the hell did you manage this?” he asked. “Manage to get me so obsessed with you?”

This time, his kissing wasn't as soft but was desperate. One hand was on your back, drawing you as close to his body as possible so that his hips were pressed against you. His other hand was around your neck with his thumb along your jaw, guiding you along.

You pressed against him as well, bringing your fingers to his hair so that his face wouldn't be able to escape from yours. He gave a little chuckle, and then he was right back against you, slipping his tongue past your lips.

And all the while, you kept feeling your stomach do flips as though it would fall right out of your body. Whenever Kylo's hand would run down your spine, you felt as though you would melt into a puddle right there on the floor. It was as though he was purposefully seeing how far he could go, for how long he could make your body his own beneath his touch. But two could play this game, because he wasn't the only one who was loving what was under his fingers.

You started to push Kylo back, letting his long legs take both of you swiftly across the kitchen and into the living room until his legs were up against the end of the couch. Then it was just a matter of balance as you placed your palms against his chest and pushed. Except that nothing actually happened; he just continued to kiss you with total ferociousness.

As much as you didn't want to, you broke off the kiss. Kylo looked down at you, slightly concerned. You could see the confusion, the hurt pass over his face and into his dark eyes as he tried to understand why you would pull away when he was just getting started.

“What is it?” he asked. His hands were now at your jaw but not possessively. His touch was soft, careful. It was to measure any harm that he may have made.

“Nothing,” you whispered between breaths. God, he had you out of breath!

“Then... I didn't hurt you?”

“No.” And then you were grinning. “I was going to push you back onto the couch, but you're too damned tall for me to knock off balance.”

He lifted his head, laughing in earnest. Then his hands left from your face to wrap around the small of your waist, as he rocked you slightly side to side. “You would knock me down? _Me?_ The most powerful member of the First Order?”

“It was my plan,” you admitted, your hands still on his chest. You gave another push, but he was solid as a boulder.

Suddenly, you noticed that his hands being around your waist wasn't just so that he could make your hips sway back and forth. His grip tightened, and you felt his knees bend back as he dragged you with him into a fall on the couch. Falling through the air, you landed with a plop on top of Kylo Ren's chest, eyes wide in shock that your plan would backfire in such a way. But Kylo only seemed to enjoy surprising you.

His strong grip around your waist eased, and you could feel his fingers slowly trailing up and down your spine as you both lied there. Stretching forward, you kissed Kylo again, slowly, sensually, taking your time. He responded by twisting a leg around you, keeping you as close to him as he could. And that's how you stayed for a while, just slowly kissing, exploring the warm bodies beneath your finger tips, grinning, grasping each others faces and hair.

Eventually, the night slowed.

You found yourself nodding off whilst still lying on top of Kylo, your head resting on his chest and his fingers tapping down your back.

Kylo Ren stared up at the ceiling, tired but unwilling to fall asleep as you had. The warmth and proximity to your body had his heart pounding—which you heard against your ear as you faded in and out of consciousness. He didn't want to let you go, didn't want to even blink in case it should make this moment disappear.

He swallowed a nervous lump that had been building in his throat. Whatever this was, it was dangerous. He looked at you, at your messy hair spread all over his black coat, at your fingers sleepily clutching his arm, and he saw light. He saw _the_ Light. And it was utterly terrifying. Hadn't he just spent the past seventeen days trying to rid the Light from his being? And here he was, immediately dousing himself back into it when he should have been focusing on the Dark side of the Force.

But looking at you again, at the way your lips puckered as you slept, the peace with which your eyes gently shut... He couldn't bring himself to look away. It felt like a knife cutting through him just to stare back up at the ceiling.

Gently, he ran his fingers through your hair, brushing it back from your face.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, not quite sure to whom he spoke. “Forgive me.”

 

**Glossary:**

_Histological sections_ : are carefully cut sections of tissue to be viewed under a microscope. The study by pathologists of these tissue samples is called histopathology.

 _Frontal Lobe:_ The front portion of your brain controls your personality, decision making, memory functions, social control, etc. It's basically the part of the brain that makes you _you_. Patients who have frontal temporal dementia (FTD) have basically no impulse control and do really inappropriate things all the time before becoming just totally apathetic. Like, they may pee on someone else's bed or ask if you'd 'like to fuck' when you had just gone up to him to see if he was ready for dinner or release a camel from the assisted living's annual petting zoo and claim that 'it wanted to be free'. I can't even make this shit up.

 

 **A/N:** Don't forget that there is now a playlist for this chapter on my [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnNDXjSxr4M&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhYj7UP0CmSHo74mv29vfAp3) and [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science).


	14. He Wants Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger is lurking on the Starkiller Base as General Hux and Captain Stratoveer make it more than obvious that they are keeping secrets that will determine your future in the First Order.

**A/N:**  There is a playlist for this chapter [here on Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PE1ges9nn6A&list=PL0PGmOE0Guha4vGWN9OEHHZthpzjydRpf) and [here on 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science).

Upon seeing the Starkiller Base ahead, Hux had only two thoughts on his mind: get the hell away from both Kylo Ren and Captain Stratoveer who had been driving him up the wall for seventeen days straight and running as fast as he possibly could to the hologram projector where he could speak with Supreme Leader Snoke in absolute confidence that no one else would hear.

General Hux was grinding his teeth as he marched toward the projector. Snoke wouldn't be pleased to see him so soon after their departure from having just been with him. It would most likely worry the old tyrant, make him more likely to lash out at the general before him. But it was necessary.

“Back so soon after training,” Snoke growled, menacing as ever. “What could be important enough to see me again after less than two days?” Snoke leaned forward, sneering. “Have you come to tell me about how you despise him?”

_Him_. That could be multiple people right now.

“Ren is right—Stratoveer isn't worthy of training. Neither of us trust him.”

“Do you think that I would be foolish enough to give him training—to allow Kylo Ren to teach him to control the Force—if I did not believe him worthy? Worthiness and trust are not inherently correlated, General.”

Hux stared down at the floor, at the smudges on his boots that would need to be cleaned. “Ren wants to kill him.”

“But he will not,” Snoke interjected. He was confident of the matter. “Stratoveer will be won over to the Dark side like anyone else. Give him time. Give him more training from Ren.”

General Hux didn't believe it. It wasn't that Captain Stratoveer wasn't interested in the Dark side, but he was unruly, narcissistic. He was more willing to put himself ahead than to think of the First Order—than to _die_ for the First Order.

“Do _you_ trust him?” Hux asked, voice weak.

“Of course I do not. But I trust no one.” A man like Snoke would not have survived for so long if he had trusted those around him. “Keep an eye on him, General. Ease your worries through use of spies and report back.”

Hux gave a salute, already beginning to turn around, but Snoke's voice rippled through the air.

“I did not yet dismiss you.”

Hux paused in place, his heart racing and sweat dripping down his back. He turned back to Snoke, ready to be reprimanded.

“You know of a woman on board—one who is sensitive to the Force.” Snoke didn't even bother asking it as a question. He knew what Hux kept hidden.

“You... You also know of her? I had left the matter to Ren's discretion.”

“Yes, though neither of you are useful at delivering information in a pertinent manner.” Snoke leaned back, staring down his nose at Hux to purposely make the general more uncomfortable. “And what has Kylo Ren decided to do with her?”

Hux was even more nervous; he could empathise with cock roaches in that moment. “I'm not sure. All I know is that he is infatuated with her. Obsessed.” Ren had been distracted the entire training by her, which was maddening. This was why relationships had to be broken... at least temporarily.

“Is he possessive of her?”

“Yes. He gives her far more attention than is necessary. It has begun to worry me... worry me about what he feels for her.”

Snoke smiled a condescending grin. “You know as well as I that Ren is incapable of love. Of affection. That has been rid of him.”

“Are you certain? He _wants_ her.”

Snoke appeared offended that Hux would ask such a thing, and the very air in the room seemed to electrify. “Ren is only capable of lust, of control, of hate and greed and anger. He is not a man who wants anything more than to have her as his own and use her abilities to further his own ambitions. She is a possession. Nothing more.”

Hux was back to looking at his feet, his hands held behind his back. It was difficult to believe that Kylo Ren wasn't falling for this woman rather than just controlling her as a plaything. But he said nothing; Snoke seemed annoyed enough with the entire discourse.

“I'll hear nothing more of this,” Snoke finally sighed after having let Hux squirm in silence for a few moments. “If you speak of her, it will be either because she is receiving training from Ren or because she has been terminated. Do you understand?”

Hux shook his head in agreement. “Yes.”

“Yes...?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader Snoke.”

* * *

Blinking into the dark, you stretched your hand forward into your blankets, not completely sure what you expected to find. Your fingers fell upon Pickles, who stretched in his sleep with a small chirp. You recoiled back into the warmth of the duvet, trying to rid yourself of the confusion of sleep.

You had seen that face again. The wretched, scarred face that glowed in blue light. You had heard him speak, but the words seemed jumbled. They didn't make sense.

Slowly, you sat up and was jolted awake when you actually looked around. Sleeping on the couch on the opposing wall was Kylo Ren, rolled into a little ball on his side beneath his heavy coat. The events of the night started to stream back to you—falling asleep on his chest, listening to his heart beat. You never remembered getting into bed. Had he carried you here? Most likely.

Part of you wanted to get up to check on him. Give him a blanket instead of his coat to cover up with or invite him to warm up beside you. But there was still a certain level of nervousness in waking him. No matter how peaceful he appeared, you were still mildly cautious. Not to mention that you were still in total disbelief that this was even happening. Kylo Ren was sleeping on your couch. _Your_ couch. And Kylo Ren—the big bad leader of the First Order—had presumably tucked you into bed.

You were surprised by the gentleness of it all. It was a side that he kept well hidden, but you were just starting to see glimpses into who he truly was. No on was purely mean, spiteful, angry. Right? Kylo had already proven as much to you. Now it was just a matter of learning more—learning what made him who he was. You already knew that he could be passionate, playful, tender.

Your fingers reflexively touched at your lips, which were still swollen from kissing.

Yes, he could be dangerous. But he could also be affectionate in a way that you had never anticipated. The dissonance in his behaviour was somewhat maddening. And all the more intriguing.

You didn't know at what point that you had fallen back asleep, but when your alarm clock blared, you knew that he had left in the night. The couch sat empty; he was gone.

* * *

You went into work like normal that day, but concentrating on the data that had been left for you by Byrt and Mickella was nearly impossible. This seemed to be happening a lot more lately. Those two little flash drives sat on your desk like usual, just waiting to be plugged in and fed into the greater mess of data. And you _could_ have plugged them in, could have filtered through the raw numbers for hours on end. And you _should_ have done so. But right now, your entire life seemed too overwhelming to even be real.

Not overwhelming in the sense that you wanted to slam your head against your desk and hide under your blanket, which was an improvement over the past few weeks. But still overwhelming.

And you found yourself grinning as you thought about it all—thought of Kylo Ren and the reality that _somehow_ you not only no longer despised him, but you were...

“ _Damn it, I'm completely enamoured_ ,” you sighed whilst slowly shaking your head with a laugh. If you were floating on a damned cloud in that moment from just thinking about him, then how in the hell were you going to react upon _seeing_ him next? _Probably like a fool._

Yes. Most likely a massive, love-struck idiot.

The research assistants both showed up shortly after in your office, ready for your commands so that they could haul up in their respective offices. You didn't have much of a plan for either of them but decided that now was as good a time as ever to do some digging on the random thoughts that had been gathering after having seen the new collection of brains. The medical list of the particularly demented Trooper had never left your thoughts. Three concussions... All of which were severe enough to need medical treatment. But... could there have been more? It was worth looking into, and hell, it's not like you had much else for the assistants to do that day.

So, you sent Byrt on a mission to find out about concussions—severity grading, long-term effects, anything—and you could tell as he left that he thought you were sending him on a wild goose chase. He probably thought that he was being given busy work by this point, which wasn't completely untrue, but this actually seemed like a lead—even if by a massive long shot.

And as for Mickella—shy, apprehensive Mickella, hiding behind the thickest rimmed glasses that you had ever seen and a mess of waist-length blonde hair—you sent her on a similarly as bizarre mission. You wanted her to find out from Amena just how often the Troopers were coming in with concussions.

Mickella scuffed the toe of her shoe, trying to make sure that she was understanding you correctly. “Any concussion? All of them? Just reported ones? Or just a certain type?” She was getting more nervous by the second. The poor girl was just about trembling.

“Any and all. Find out what is being reported, but if you could ask Amena to share some insight about whether or not there is any under-reporting, that would help.”

Mickella nodded, her hair flopping in her face, and she scampered away like a mouse.

And just that quickly, you had delegated the team and could finally breathe for a moment. Glancing at the clock, you realised that Talia was late. Very late, actually. But you were almost thankful for her absence. Honestly, you doubted that you would see her at all that day. With General Hux back aboard the satellite, the two of them were probably trying to figure things out.

Or were busy enjoying some privacy.

But you didn't really want to think about that, now or ever.

Eventually, you decided to just leave the confines of the office and walk around. It was an old trick from your student days when a professor would send you on walks to clear your head and break up the monotony of staring at the same data spreadsheet for days. A walk didn't _always_ cure what ailed you, but at this time, it seemed like a reasonable option.

You made your way from the 500s hallway, down a few flights of stairs, and decided that walking to the hanger may be a nice change of pace. You watched as Storm Troopers passed by on business, personnel discussing the New Republic, mechanics moving from one job to another. Life on board was normal as could be, it would seem. Normal for everyone except you, whose mind was in a Kylo Ren fueled trance.

You had circled a hallway just before the hanger a few times, passing by the same electrician, the same exhausted pilot, the same six Storm Troopers who were discussing some hot shot pilot. As you were preparing to find another route to wander, you noticed three captains walking forward, deep in conversation. You walked closer to the wall, trying to keep to the side so that they possibly wouldn't notice your aimless wandering. Plus, you were fairly certain that the captain in the middle—the tallest of the three and with salt and pepper hair—was Captain Stratoveer, and that was simply something that you did _not_ want to deal with at the moment.

You kept to yourself as they passed to your left, feeling hyper aware of their every movement. You could nearly _feel_ them as they walked. The air seemed to buzz with tiny vibrations that pricked at your skin and made the hair on your arms stand on end. And then there was a small noise with it—like a familiar hum that you were trying desperately to place. Why did this feeling seem so recognisable? So common? Like your senses were meshing...

_The Force._

Nearly stumbling, you turned around, head whipping in the direction of the captains. As you turned, Captain Stratoveer slightly missed a step, the toe of his boot catching the floor with a tiny skid before he continued walking as if everything was perfectly normal.

As if he hadn't just tried to use the Force to enter your mind.

“Captain,” you called, voice sounding much more authoritative than it had any right to. You watched as all three captains looked over their shoulders. The two on either side of Stratoveer looked honestly surprised to hear you shout down the hall, but Stratoveer was throwing a cruel sneer your way.

Suddenly, you found your feet moving toward them even though every part of your body shouted to turn the other direction. He had just tried to enter your mind! Sure, he had failed. But he was dangerous! Frightening! And your very awareness of how afraid you were of him was enough to make you shiver. You were usually never made nervous or frightened by other people, but the way that he looked at you—as though you were a slimy insect that needed to be crushed immediately—was enough to set you into alarm.

Your eyes met with Stratoveer's, both of you glaring, and the other two captains quickly walked away. Apparently, they knew better than to be involved with his confrontations.

“Why do you look at me that way whenever you see me?” you asked, not bothering to be civil. Dear goodness, you were one sentence into speaking with him and were already spitting fire.

“I've never done such a thing,” he replied, voice eerily calm, collected. This type of conversation must have come very naturally to him. “Perhaps you confuse me with another. Perhaps with someone like Kylo Ren?”

“No. I haven't,” you growled through gritted teeth.

He smiled, voice laced with sarcasm. “No, of course not. How could I ever be so absurd as to think _you_ would confuse _anyone_ with Ren?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You folded your arms, trying to look as tough as possible. Stratoveer noticed and took a slight step forward, invading your personal space enough so that you would either have to be a few inches from one another or you would have to take a step back. You opted not to move; he didn't deserve to see you concede your power.

“You know what it means. You know Ren rather well, don't you?”

“Yes. Well enough, in fact, to be aware when someone is trying to use the Force to enter my mind.”

At this, Captain Stratoveer took a step back, no longer willing to be in your face. “You aren't the only one who has received secrets from him—who understands what's going on beneath the surface of this base. I know more about you than you would like; just remember that.”

You scoffed. “I don't particular care what people know about my personal life. Stop acting as though it's some volatile secret weapon.”

For a second, you thought that he was going to turn around and leave—that he had had enough of you. But Stratoveer only paused for a moment before suddenly looking as though he was the most confident man in the world. “Oh, I don't play games of _acting_ with people like you. I treat secrets like weapons because they _are_.”

Once again, he had managed to scare you, and your mind started to question just what kind of information that he had and in what ways he was willing to use it. You were so close to asking him to explain himself, but a hand was at your shoulder, and Stratoveer took another step back. He gave a half-hearted salute and then immediately turned around to catch up with the other captains who had left him.

You glanced to the pale hand on your shoulder and were surprised to see General Hux, whose face was sour enough to curdle milk.

“You're playing with fire, Doctor.”

He started to lead you away, back down the hall that connected to the hanger and toward the centre of the satellite.

“Yes, I know.”

“No, you don't,” Hux hissed under his breath. “You have not a single inclination of what danger you are in. Between your... _relationship_... with Ren and then picking a fight with Stratoveer, you are setting yourself up for harm.”

“You think that Kylo would hurt me?”

“I _know_ that he would.”

“You have such little faith.”

Hux looked at you as though you were a child who had back-talked him. “Faith is a pitiable thing to have.” _Same as trust._

By this point, you had both reached the top of a flight of stairs within the domed lobby that broke into eight hallways, and Hux started to head toward the central command station.

“Stay away from him,” Hux said from a few steps away. “From Stratoveer.”

“And what about Kylo?”

Hux bit at the inside of his cheek, a hand on his hip as he fought an internal battle. He wanted to tell you to run as fast as you could, but he shook it off. “Use your own judgement.”

You took a few steps after him, but he held out a hand to block you. “If you're following me to find Ren, then you're wasting your time. He's in his bunker—number 229. Go there if you must.”

“Thank you.” You could only manage a gruff mumble as he walked away.

Standing in the middle of the lobby as Troopers passed by, you stared down the expanse of the 200s hallway. The 29th room would be up two storeys, if you were correct on that particular hallway's design. It would only take a few minutes to get there... A few minutes until you could see him again, feel him beneath your fingers, kiss him.

_Well, fuck it._ It looked like you were going to room 229.


	15. Bunker 229

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning that you could personally be in danger, you confront Kylo Ren in his bunker to discuss Captain Stratoveer's threats and the future of your relationship with the Force.

The 200s hallway and its multiple floors was one of the least visited locations on the entire satellite. Its twisting hallways were usually empty, save the occasional electrician or mechanic. For the most part, the 220s hall was full of boiler rooms, storage, and other forgotten places. And hidden at the very end of that hallway was room 229, a seemingly inconspicuous bunker that was used by Kylo Ren whenever he wasn't present on the Starkiller Base below.

The end of the hallway was dark, uninviting. You wondered if Kylo Ren had planned this—if he had specifically requested to live in the least appealing area of the satellite so that he wouldn't be bothered. You hovered on the other side of the sliding metal door, your finger resting on the lighted call button beside the door. Biting your lip, you pressed it with a small beep from an intercom speaker beside it.

“Kylo?” you asked in a whisper to the speaker. “It's me.”

You heard nothing from the other end. Not even static. You waited a few seconds. A few more. An entire minute.

Maybe Hux had been wrong. Maybe Kylo wasn't here at all.

Leaning your head against the metal of the door frame, you closed your eyes with a sigh and then repeatedly pressed the button, over and over. It's not like he would be there anyway. What on earth had you expected? Why had you even bothered? Kylo had probably just run off again, embarrassed and confused about you.

You had almost decided to turn around when the metal door suddenly slid open, and you jumped back.

Standing moodily in just a pair of loose black trousers and an old, beat up long-sleeved shirt was Kylo Ren. His arms were folded tight, muscles more than obvious beneath the sleeves that clung a little too tightly to him. Damn those arms, that face, all of him.

“May I come in?” you asked. You wanted to walk in as though you owned the place—it wasn't like he hadn't done the same to your apartment. But he seemed upset as though he had just spent the morning sulking, and you remembered what he had told you those weeks before. _I'm a private person_. Well, no shit with a bunker this hidden away.

“Yes,” he said after a little while and backed up from the doorway so that you could follow him inside.

The metal door slid closed behind you, and your eyes quickly scanned the room, not knowing what you expected. It was nearly empty save for an unmade bed pressed against a corner, a small closet with mostly dark clothing spilling out onto the floor, and a metal book case jammed full with old, dust covered books that he obviously hadn't touched in years. And then on the other side of the small room was a padded bench and a small pedestal with a cloth thrown haphazardly over the object upon it.

Kylo was silent as you looked around the room, your eyes lingering on the books longer than anything else. He glanced over at them, too.

“They're from a long time ago,” he mentioned. There was little time for him to read these days, it would seem. He seemed increasingly agitated as you took a few steps toward the books, fingers sliding over the binding. It was so rare to see this many books out of the academic world; the First Order and New Republic alike had mostly switched to digital ages ago. You could feel Kylo's discomfort from behind you, but you kept your attention on the books as you gently brushed some of the dust and cobwebs from a particularly worn novel.

“How did you find this place?” Kylo asked whilst walking up behind you. His hands were at your shoulders as though he was questioning whether you would allow him to touch anywhere else.

“Hux told me.” You turned around to face him and put your hands on his arms, letting yourself feel the muscles hidden under thin fabric. It just about made your head spin. “I needed to see you.”

Kylo slowly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest so that your face was resting against his shoulder. One of his hands was at the back of your head, tangling into your hair as he closed his eyes, just breathing in the moment.

He had needed to see you as well, but he kept the words to himself.

“I need to know something,” you began, voice slightly muffled against him. Kylo made no attempt to move or let you go. “I need to know if I'm in danger. Hux seems to think that I am. _I_ think I am.”

He flinched and let his hands drop to your hips so that he could lean you back, look at your face. You didn't appear too worried, even if you were because of the conversation with Hux about Captain Stratoveer. Kylo, on the other hand, appeared entirely uneasy.

“The moment you walked onto this satellite, you were in danger,” he replied.

“But what kind of danger am I in?”

Kylo shook his head, not wanting to answer. You stretched your hand toward his head, letting it rest against his temple. Suddenly, you understood the appeal to being able to read minds.

“Now I wish that I could see what you're thinking... See what has you so incredibly scared, angry, confused. See what it is that you aren't willing to tell me.”

“I'm not scared,” Kylo hissed, taking a small step back so that you couldn't touch his face, couldn't feel him at all against your skin. He crossed the bunker and sat down on the bench, his forehead in his hands as he pulled the dark hair from his face.

You slowly walked over to join him and sat on the other end of the bench, your chin resting in your palm as you stared at the cloth-covered pedestal. If he wanted to sit there seething, then so be it. You'd let him. It was better than a tantrum, anyway.

“How did my life get like this?” Kylo asked himself.

“I don't know. I've asked myself the same thing a lot lately.”

You put your hand on his back, giving a little pat, and he sighed.

Kylo moved his hands from his face and leaned his elbows on his thighs as he stared forward. “If you could see into my mind right now, there would be too much for your to handle,” he groaned.

“Do you want to talk about any of it?”

“Not particularly.” He turned, finally willing to face you after a few minutes of brooding. “All that you need to know for now is that Stratoveer has greatly complicated what was already a difficult matter when it comes to you.”

His hand sought you out, warm fingers lacing between yours.

“I've hurt you once. I'll probably hurt you again,” he admitted. “But never on purpose. _Never_. I can't say the same for others in the First Order... especially Stratoveer. I've seen into his mind, seen his level of ambition and what he's willing to do to get to the top of the First Order. He's willing to kill other loyal people in the process if he has to. The entire time that we were training off base, I could hear his _every fucking thought_. And he knew it, too. Didn't give a single damn that I knew who he wanted to kill and whose position he was after. That kind of person can't be trusted.”

You had more or less figured this out for yourself because of the conversation with Hux, but to see Kylo so riled up about the subject was enough to finally drive home the realisation that you truly _were_ in danger. And being in danger was something that you had never really encountered before. It was a completely foreign feeling.

Kylo lifted his hands so that he could hold your face, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles against your cheeks. He wanted to stop talking, wanted to shut his mouth by pressing it against yours. But he held back.

“You're _not_ safe. And you won't be. But do this for me: never allow yourself to be in the same room as Stratoveer alone. Absolutely never.”

Kylo was starting to worry you even more. “Why?”

“Because I've seen everything that has happened in his life and everything that he's _wished_ could happen. Anyone who has stood in his way is dead. And anyone who continues to will be as well, if he can help it. Just give him time.”

The warning was sinking in, just like the warmth of his hands. You didn't know if the shivers running over your arms was from him being so close or the lurking fear.

The panic was rising in your chest, but you kept it under control. “Do you think that he would want to kill _me_? I haven't been kind to him, but I certainly haven't done anything to hold him back from whatever goals he has.”

Kylo shook his head. “It's not a matter of what _you've_ done. He doesn't give a shit about you. It's a matter of what _I've_ done. I've blocked his every move, his every attempt to usurp power where he doesn't deserve it. Don't think for a second that he is blind to who you are and that you have been near me—he saw me leave your apartment early this morning. He knows. He will use this knowledge. And he will abuse it.”

That's when it made sense why Stratoveer had acted as though your personal life was a valuable secret. It _was_ valuable to him. Valuable in the sense that you were now leverage against Kylo Ren.

“I'd be a pawn, huh?” You said it matter of factly but laced with a sneer. It felt rather demeaning to think that you could be used by Stratoveer to get to Kylo Ren.

“We all are.”

“Even you?”

Kylo thought for a moment, not wanting to reveal too much. “Forget I said it.” And then his lips were pressed against yours, slow and soft as he cradled your head. But you pulled away.

“Yes, nice try. But I'm not _that_ easily distracted.” You weren't actually certain if that was true; he was _extremely_ distracting. But so was your curiosity. “ _'Forget'_? You've told me that before. No.”

He looked disgruntled with his hands still at your jaw and lips slightly parted. “You already know that I'm taking orders from someone far above me.”

“Yes,” you replied, and you kissed him for only a moment—just long enough to feel powerful when you pulled away again. He seemed even more impatient this time. “But you're too powerful to be a pawn.”

Having been called powerful must have offset the annoyance of being called a pawn, because Kylo let out a grin.

“I'm serious!” you responded, trying not to laugh at him grinning. But the more he smiled, the more you were screwing up your face to keep from laughing.

You groaned, feeling completely idiotic and as though you had just been put through an emotional roller-coaster of fear and stress and now attraction to top it all off. Kylo let go of your face so that he could pick you up in one fell swoop, letting you sit on his lapwhilst face him. You gave a fake frown as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I know that there are certain things you can't tell me,” you said. “But considering the circumstances of me _possibly_ being in danger because of this...” _Relationship?_ “...Whatever it is that we have... I'd like to start being kept in the loop. Less secrets.”

Kylo had put his hands on your waist, mulling over your demands. He didn't seem the most happy with the idea of sharing intimate details of the First Order with you, but it was only a matter of time before it sould be necessary.

“Less secrets... Well, I'll tell you whatever it is that you need to know to stay safe. _That_ I won't hide,” he said. “But if you're wanting to know what is happening behind the scenes in the First Order, I won't be able to divulge anything. Unless...”

And then that smile was playing at his full lips again, and he scooted you closer to him so that he could put his forearms behind your back and hands at the nape of your neck.

“Unless what?”

“You let me give you training.”

You bit at your bottom lip. As much as you hadn't originally wanted anything to do with the Force—mostly because you hadn't even believed that it was real—it was apparent by this point that you had few other options. There were too many threats around you, too many people who could break into your mind. You weren't some Trooper trained in offence. You didn't know how to use a blaster, how to fight someone off. The Force was your only defence.

“Fine,” you said after a few moments, and Kylo finally looked relieved for the first time all morning. “Teach me.”

And then you could kiss him without any trepidation what so ever, just enjoying the moment without being aware that possibly one of Kylo’s greatest secrets lied hidden under the cloth on the pedestal just a few steps away.

 

**A/N:** Ten points to whoever guesses what's hidden on the pedestal.


	16. Never Speak That Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening that was to be spent training you in the Force is suddenly cut short when Kylo's rage toward Stratoveer boils over.

**Playlists for this chapter:**

[Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVS0uCoLZcY&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhYmvIIp8oMKih4z4I_RDALL&index=1), [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science)

A book was leaned against your door a few mornings later, a page ripped from the flyleaf in the back and folded like a bookmark into its centre. You pulled out the note, reading Kylo Ren's atrociously bad hand-writing.

_When would you like to have your first training? -KR_

A tiny smile played at your lips upon seeing the letter, and you placed it and the book into your purse as you made your way down the hall and toward your office. You would have to find a nearby Storm Trooper to deliver a message to him once you were settled into your work for the day. Finding a Trooper for the job wouldn't be difficult; it would be convincing them to risk their lives in speaking to Kylo Ren that would be a challenge.

Talia was finally back in the office that day, looking far more cheerful than she had in weeks. She was already pushing data through a specialised spreadsheet for statistical analysis when you got in and plopped in your rolling chair.

“Did you have a good day yesterdaywith a certain red headed General?” you asked, feeling like a little shit.

Talia blushed bright red, almost the colour of her dark mahogany hair. “Yeah.”

You let her squirm for a little bit as you picked through your purse for the book and letter. First things first, you jotted down your own message beneath his writing.

_Tonight. After dinner. My apartment. -x_

Hopefully he didn't have any other plans.

You stepped out into the hallway until you found a Storm Trooper—one you recognised from a unique scuff on his armour, though you couldn't place where you had least seen him. He was apprehensive about taking the note to Kylo Ren but agreed out of a sense of good-natured duty. _Nice kid._ Too bad he would probably be blown to bits in an eventual battle.

Then it was back into the office, where the book sat on your desk. Or... _had_ sat on your desk. You glanced over at Talia, who happened to be flicking through the pages, and a quick surge of jealousy raced through your veins. Fighting the urge to pluck the book from her long fingers, you stood behind her instead, leaning over her shoulder.

“This book is hella old,” Talia mumbled as her index finger hovered along the copyright page. “You're seriously the only person I've seen since my university days who still reads paper instead of digital. Where did you even get this?” She flipped the pages over until she was at the yellowed cover, hazel eyes trying to read a bit of crossed out writing. “Who's Ben?”

“Ben?” You snapped the book from Talia's grasp and looked at the front cover for yourself. Ink scribbles had tried to cross out a name, but it was still obvious. _Ben_. Who the hell was Ben? And why did _both_ of Kylo's books have that name written on the inside? In fact, why did Kylo even _have_ all of those books when he could have easily stored their entire contents on a single file?

Of course, it was entirely possible that the books had been inherited—maybe from someone named Ben. After all, they were old. Much, _much_ older than Kylo Ren. But seeing that name twice stirred something within you that you didn't completely understand. It was just another mystery on top of all the other mysteries that kept popping up on this forsaken satellite.

“I don't know who Ben is, but his book sucks,” Talia mentioned as she turned back to her computer monitor to plunk out a line of coding. “It's just about politics or whatever.”

“I'm sorry that it isn't about brains, your royal highness of neuroscience.”

Talia gave a sarcastic laugh. “If only. I'd wear a golden crown of brain stems.”

“That is disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as the Trooper I'm supposed to visit in a couple weeks down on Starkiller Base who has the mystery dementia. Get a load of this guy.” She tossed a computer tablet over to you, which you only just caught as it sailed through mid air.

Scanning through the file that she had uploaded, you saw the picture of a middle-aged man in a wheelchair, looking completely unaware of his surroundings. “Talia, that's not disgusting. That's just sad.”

She shrugged. “Same, same. Anyway, I'm taking a trip for a couple of days down to the main base to see some of these guys first hand. There's a med bay down there with about sixty permanent-resident Troopers—all with dementia. I figured I would scope the place out a bit, do some interviews, draw a little blood. That kind of stuff.”

You handed the tablet back to Talia and did a few lazy spins in your chair. “I suppose that I should go with you.”

“It would be appreciated,” Talia hummed. “If for no other reason than because I'm too much of a jerk to be left alone with a bunch of people who have dementia. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't hurt them or anything, but I'm way more used to interacting with people who have been dead for several days.”

You couldn't have agreed with her more. “I'll come along if I can find someone to watch my cat.”

“Excellent.”

And that's how you managed to book yourself a trip to the Starkiller Base. Granted, it wasn't for nearly a month from now, but the plans were definitely in place.

For now, though, you had other, much more pressing concerns. It still hadn't left your mind that you were in danger. Try as you might to ignore reality, it was there, lurking behind metal walls, behind dark eyes and kisses that tried to make you forget. And Kylo had _tried_ to make you forget about the danger for at least a little bit, had tried so incredibly hard to hold you as close to him as possible and drown out any anxiety that the both of you felt. But it was still there—a constant. It was a shadow beneath your foot, a tattoo pressed into the skin.

You could feel the sense of raw exposure as you made your way to Kylo's bunker shortly before dinner.

Lately, he had been joining you and General Hux and the others in the cafeteria for dinners. At first, you had supposed it was his attempt to make you eat and take care of yourself whilst mourning for the Trooper who had died under your care. But even after you had stopped mourning (and once he had returned from his training), he still showed up, always sitting directly beside you. He didn't always speak at the meals; sometimes, he was down right moody through it all and only glared at Hux while stuffing food into his mouth. Even then, though, you knew why he was there. It was you. And that was enough to get you smiling like an idiot again.

“Kylo, open up,” you said into the intercom speaker beside his door. It took a damned long time for him to answer—just like it had a few days before—but he finally opened the sliding metal door to join you. He was decked out in his usual attire. All black, helmet and hood and everything. You raised an eyebrow; it seemed like a lot for just going to dinner.

He caught the look, and you knew that he was smiling. “I'm bringing the helmet to your training. I want to judge a few of your abilities without you seeing my face.”

“That doesn't do a lot of good when I can feel your emotions,” you mentioned, feeling rather powerful.

Kylo shrugged and then removed his helmet. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest at just the sight of him, and you would have pushed him against the wall right then and there if you two hadn't already been late.

Kylo let his arm rest around your shoulders as you walked to dinner, only letting go once you left the 200s hallway and entered into the more crowded lobby. It was understandable that he would be less touchy here—less willing to divulge matters of his personal life where hundreds of other Troopers and personnel could judge and spread rumours. Gossip was already abundant on board; you didn't need to add fuel to the fire.

He walked beside you, coat and cloak rippling behind him like some dark, majestic fucking angel. Every now and then, his hand would touch against yours for just long enough to send a spark up your fingers. It was enough time for you to try in vain to twist your fingers up with his, as though the flow of fabric would hide that minuscule act of affection. Kylo Ren may have been the most intimidating being on the entire satellite, but he was all you wanted.

Well... _nearly_ all you wanted. You _also_ wanted dinner, because you were just about ravenous.

The cafeteria's food was admittedly not the best; you could have probably cooked better, and that wasn't saying much. But you were just about overjoyed to get a tray full of pasta with its rehydrated vegetables and questionably flavoured sauce.

You were so close to getting to relax and eat, but Kylo froze beside you as you walked to the table in the third alcove. Eyes scanning at the table, you immediately knew what was wrong.

There was an extra person sitting at the table. The usual people were there: General Hux, Captain Phasma, Drs Amena and Talia; but sitting beside Hux and the two other empty seats was Captain Ardeus Stratoveer—acting completely oblivious to everyone else's apparent distaste for him. How he had even managed to sit there without Phasma shoving a blaster down his throat was beyond you.

“Kylo...” you whispered, trying to urge him on. He was still refusing to move.

“Why is he here?” he growled.

You gently tugged at Kylo's sleeve as you moved forward, and he followed behind with a jolted, leaden walk.

“I'll sit next to him if that makes you any less furious,” you offered, but Kylo swiftly moved past you and took the seat directly beside Stratoveer so that you could sit between Kylo and Captain Phasma.

“You don't have to be noble,” you whispered toward Kylo.

“It's not about being noble,” he responded as Stratoveer spoke with Hux about the plans for some energy field or whatever on the Starkiller Base. “I'm trying not to involve you in my personal problems.”

“Thank you, but I'm already involved.” You stole a small bite from Kylo's plate with your fork, watching him frown as you took a bite. Kylo picked around at his food for a few minutes, brewing in his own loathing, and you tried to make small talk with Phasma and Amena in the mean time—which was just about impossible with both of them too busy glaring in Stratoveer's direction for sitting at their table uninvited. They were like predatory teenage girls in a high school lunch room, ready to attack.

And then there was Talia, who was apparently unaware of the fact that Stratoveer was obviously unwanted, because she was talking to him like anyone else on board with whom she would joke or discuss her interests. Hux sat between them, boiling mad and grinding away at his teeth so roughly that you were surprised his molars hadn't shattered. It struck you at that moment that, even if Talia and Hux were spending an indecent amount of time together, they must not have spent much time speaking. Or if they did, Hux must have been an entirely closed book to her about Stratoveer and anything going on in the First Order. Somehow, that didn't really surprise you. Talia didn't seem like the type of person who could be trusted to keep life or death secrets.

Kylo was still poking around at his food when Stratoveer turned from Hux and Talia to him, commenting about his brand new training with absolutely no attempt to keep quiet about being gifted in the Force. He was bragging with such nonchalance that it was embarrassing, and yet it continued on. From bragging to putting down Kylo Ren through back-handed compliments, it was growing worse and worse. Did this man _want_ to find a lightsaber through his chest? Because he was sure as hell asking for it.

You felt Kylo's hand grab at your leg from under the table, making you jump. He was still listening to Stratoveer, refusing to say a single word, but he was holding onto you like a boulder in the middle of rushing rapids—as though you were the one thing on this entire satellite that could keep him from drowning in his revulsion. His fingers were digging into your thigh, trembling.

“But really, Ren—so young to be commanding an entire army. I could have _children_ your age.” His painfully charismatic voice still filled the air. “Which, speaking of, I believe you began your training at _what age_? Fifteen? Rather late, I would think.”

“I was _ten_ ,” Kylo snarled under his breath. His right hand was still pressed against your thigh and no doubt leaving what would be a purple bruise, and his left hand had bent his metal fork nearly in half.

“Ten. Yes, that's right. Though does it really count if you were training with Lu--”

Like a flash of lightning, Kylo was standing at the table, and his plate of food had been thrown into the wall behind him, shattering on impact. His hand that had so recently been digging into your leg as now against Stratoveer's throat as Kylo threw him to the ground.

“ _NEVER SPEAK THAT NAME!”_

His voice was a roar that sent a shock through the air.

The entire cafeteria had become deadly silent as Stratoveer clawed at Kylo's hand that was squeezing around his neck.

“Kylo.” Your voice was quiet but came out as a definite demand. Now was not the damned time or place.

His head snapped toward you, fury burning in his black eyes and mouth twisted into a snarl. He glanced back down at Stratoveer, who had turned pale in the shock of finding himself so readily at Kylo's mercy, and then Kylo threw Stratoveer across the floor with the Force, letting him skid across the metal tiles until he smashed hip first into another table of terrified Storm Troopers. Stratoveer momentarily lied there on the ground on his back, limbs slightly curled toward his body like a pathetic animal. But he quickly leapt to his feet and was running as fast as his long legs could take him out of the cafeteria, a hand rubbing at his neck.

Kylo stood from where he had been kneeling on the ground, and without even looking at you, shoved his helmet into place and marched from the cafeteria.

Looking over at Phasma beside you, she didn't even look surprised; if anything, she actually seemed rather pleased. But Hux was grimacing, his face in his hand.

“Ren will be the death of us all,” he sighed.

“Most likely,” you sighed. And then you were up, too, walking quickly out of the cafeteria to follow after Kylo.

He was at the end of the hall and entering the domed lobby when you caught up to him, and his lightsaber was already in hand, burning bright red and reverberating as it moved through the air. Holding the saber in both hands, he slammed it against a metal railing that ran alongside one of the lobby's staircases. Chunks of molten metal flew through the air as shrapnel, and sparks were flying in all directions. All of the Troopers who had been nearby had fled, leaving just you a few steps behind him, arms crossed over your chest as you watched. You could only manage to roll your eyes at his violent tantrum and wait it out.

After about a minute, the railing was unrecognisable, and Kylo stood there, back heaving as he yelled out as loud as he could. His voice came out in broken mechanical blips as his helmet failed to modify his roar of rage, but you could hear his natural voice in conjunction with the low rumble.

Letting out a final scream, he turned the lightsaber off but still gripped it in his hands with white fingers.

“Kylo...”

He straightened his posture at the sound of your voice and slowly turned around.

Sometimes it was terrifying what he could do with his body language—how those long limbs could emote so much pain and anger. You were sure his face was just as grim, but you stepped up to him anyway. You fixed his cloak, which had slipped off of his shoulders, and straightened the hood on top of his helmet.

“Come on,” you demanded, taking his hand in your own and leading him down the hallway toward your apartment. He let you lead him without a word, hand sweaty and not even bothering to hold your own. You realised then that he had left his gloves back in the cafeteria, though it honestly didn't matter at that time.

When you reached your apartment, he threw his helmet across the room to your couch, and Pickles fled as usual with a hiss. Then he fell sloppily into a barstool at your kitchen table, pulling at his hair and grimacing.

You set the electric kettle on to make some tea and try to calm him down and then sat across from him, just waiting for him to say something.

“We were supposed to train tonight.” His voice was a low growl.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Shit happens.”

Kylo shook his head. “No, just try it. Try it. I'm angry. I'm not thinking straight, so it would be so fucking easy for you to get in my head. Try it.”

“No. That literally sounds like the _worst_ idea. Calm the fuck down.”

In a way, you were almost tempted to have him go into _your_ head to see if the experience would make him less angry, but you kept your mouth closed. That, too, would probably be an awful idea.

Instead, you watched him sitting there, cringing and biting at his short nails until they bled. Gently, you pulled his hands away from his mouth and placed your palm to his temple. You could feel his rage without even trying. Trying to think calming thoughts, you wondered if it was even _possible_ to transfer over your own emotions to him. Probably not. But his face did start to lose its anger, started to settle. It may not have been the Force—could have just been the effect of touch—but it didn't particularly matter.

He opened his eyes that had been clenched shut, and you could see that he was thankful. So damned thankful but unwilling to say anything. Yet you could almost hear it coming from his lips, and that familiar hum was in the air. Now, _that_ was the Force.

Kylo stared directly in your eyes with unwavering contact, letting the Force just happen, letting go of his control. This time around, you didn't see his thoughts. Didn't see through his eyes. But you could hear his voice, and for a moment, you couldn't determine whether he was really, physically speaking to you or if it was just letting you hear his thoughts. His voice was asking... no, _begging_... for you to not leave. For him to stay right there. He didn't feel like he deserved anything from you, but he begged to be able to not leave from your sight and touch.

You gave him the tiniest of smiles, even though your eyes still spoke volumes of concern. You moved your hand from his temple and into his hair, letting your fingers slide down to the side of his face as the humming of the Force left you.

“Really, Kylo? I wouldn't dare let you leave my sight in this state.”

He slowly nodded, closing his eyes again. “I just... want to fucking sleep and not think about that bastard.”

“Then do it. No one is stopping you,” you replied. “And don't try to fall asleep on the couch again with just your coat to keep you warm. I have a bed for a reason.”

Kylo slowly pulled the hooded cloak from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor beside your table as the kettle in the background began to whistle. He didn't say a single word, but held out his hand to bring the kettle to the table, pouring out the water for both of you. He wasn't interested in actually drinking the tea but wrapped his hands around the burning hot mug and stared at his reflection in the steaming water.

“I'm hideous,” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes. “No you aren't.” He may have not been conventionally attractive, but to you, he was everything. “Now stop burning yourself and go to bed.”

He groaned out an unwilling agreement and pushed his cup of tea toward you. Apparently, you were getting two cups tonight. Then he fidgeted with his belt and coat and padded armour and boots until he was down to his black under clothing of loose trousers and a long sleeved shirt.

Kylo looked exhausted out of pure anger and spite, and he weakly meandered to your bed, sitting on the edge for a moment before laying back, feet still on the floor.

“Why do you treat me so well?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling.

You laughed. “I don't. I'm a sarcastic arse to you.”

He shot your words back at you. “ _No you aren't._ ” Scooting completely onto your bed, he didn't even bother to pull the blankets over himself, but he grabbed your pillow, punching it beneath him as he rolled to his side.

It must have only taken less than a minute for him to fall asleep, because when you walked over to check on him shortly after, he was already out with lips slightly parted and that strangely serene look on his face. You watched as Pickles crept from under the bed and jumped up, cuddling himself along Kylo's back.

Well, if Pickles was making himself comfortable without scaring Kylo into a Force attack, then you would try, too.

Slipping into a tank top and pyjama shorts, you crawled into bed and lied on your side to face Kylo Ren. He didn't awake as the bed creaked with your combined weight but only mumbled something that you couldn't decipher. Slowly, ever so slowly and carefully, you scooted closer to him until your faces were a breath away.

“Kylo...” you whispered as quietly as possible.

“Hmm?” He wasn't even awake but responded on instinct.

You leaned forward, giving him a small kiss. “Good night.”

His eyes were still shut, but he reached his arm around your back and brought you to him, cradling you against his chest. You could smell the burnt metal on his shirt, feel his body heat. Tangling your legs between his, you let yourself drift off—perfectly content to forget the evening's events in favour of this moment of peace.

* * *

 


	17. You're In My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More information comes to light concerning the high rate of concussion among Storm Troopers, but you have little time to think about the new findings when Kylo Ren asks you to join him on a mission to the main Starkiller Base below.

**Playlists:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnRqgF028es&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhYbDVtbsJlDig6tiCkSrITw), [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science)

* * *

Another day. Another data file sitting on the desk, just ready to be plugged into your computer.

The monitor clicked into motion, files running across the screen as you transferred them onto the hard-drive. Two audio recordings, three videos, seven spreadsheets, and over one hundred medical files flashed by. Mickella had apparently outdone herself since having been ordered to get medical information concerning Trooper concussions.

You clicked on one of the videos to see the grainy closed-circuit footage from within a Storm Trooper carrier ship, watching as the armoured Troopers swayed back and forth from turbulence. Admittedly, you didn't actually know why the video was included in the file set, and you closed out without finishing watching. Instead, you opened up one of the many medical files, reading through a laundry list of head injuries sustained by a random Trooper.

Mickella popped her head outside of her office, hair once again covering most of her face like a curtain. “Are the files... are they what you wanted?”

You shrugged. There was no way to tell yet after having only opened two. But you were sure that there was something useful in there.

She timidly slid over to your computer, and opened one of the spreadsheets to show the number of concussions that Amena and her team had treated over the past year. “I started putting this together after talking to Dr Sayeed,” she explained in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “She thinks the Troopers are getting _way_ more concussions than what's reported.”

Mickella opened a second spreadsheet that was seven times the size as the previous one. “And _this_ shows the number that are probably occurring without getting reported. I don't know if this... well, if this answers your questions. I hope it does...”

“You did just fine,” you assured her, though you were fairly certain that in about five seconds, she would ask you again if she truly had pleased you.

“Are you sure that I--”

_“Yes, she's sure.”_

A deep voice had rumbled from the doorway to the office, and you were already grinning before you could even look up. Kylo Ren was leaning against the door frame with that menacing helmet pulled snug over his head. Mickella nearly jumped out of her skin upon hearing his voice. It took her only a few seconds to look as though she would vomit from fear, and then she was scampering off toward her cupbaord of an office.

Kylo let out an eerie, distorted laugh.

“Scaring away my research assistant, eh?” you asked as Kylo meandered further into your office toward you. He scanned the room, having never entered before, and his gaze lingered on the expansive collection of brains that resided above Talia's desk on their various shelves.

“Hux wasn't lying about her obsession...” he mentioned, head motioning toward her desk.

“No. Brains are her one true love in life.” _Sucks to be Hux_ , you thought.

That same laugh came through Kylo's helmet, which was absolutely cringe-inducing. You stood up and unclicked the locks on the bottom of his helmet, taking it off for yourself and setting it on your desk. Revealing Kylo's long, pale face and all of that breathtakingly luscious hair was one of the greater pleasures in your life, lately. He gave the tiniest of smiles and leaned down to kiss you, letting his face linger before yours for far longer than you could have hoped.

“It's nice to see you,” he whispered. His arm had snaked its way around your waist, his hand grabbing at your hip.

“Same. Though you're going to make office work a little difficult if you decide to start distracting me like this on a regular basis.”

He only shrugged his shoulders in response and lifted you so that you were sitting on the edge of your desk in front of him. Then he took a seat in your rolling chair, leaning back and setting the heel of one of his massive black boots against the desk. He closed his eyes with arms stretched back and then hands behind his head as he appeared to relax.

“Getting comfortable?” He looked like he was ready to fall asleep in your chair.

“No... Getting my thoughts together,” he groaned.

That's when you noticed that his hands weren't just behind his head but also gripping at his hair, as though all of that pulling would remove his stress. He always seemed to do this—to seek you out when he was anxious or upset. Something about you calmed him down, though whether that was natural or a product of the Force, you weren't sure.

“So this isn't just a social visit?” you asked, feeling slightly let down.

Kylo sighed and stretched forward in the chair, his legs now tucked awkwardly to his sides because of his height, and he rolled up to you to set his elbows on your lap and chin in his palm. “It can be social as well, but that isn't why I came here.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, letting a dark curl twirl around your finger. “I'm listening.”

“There's a training mission planned for tomorrow on the Starkiller Base—something I've been commanded to lead for that bastard of a captain. And I want you there. I don't care what work you have here with Talia. I don't care what you're _supposed_ to do. I want you there with me.”

His voice was echoing in your own head, flowing from your fingers that were pressed into his hair. _“I_ need _you there with me.”_

“Need or want?” you asked aloud.

He didn't answer but grimaced. The familiar hum of the Force was growing stronger. _“Please.”_

“Use your words, Kylo.”

“Please.”

You bit at your lip. It wasn't that you had anything that important going on the next day—just the same research and a meeting with Amena and that horrid, decrepit psychiatrist who was currently trying to convince the both of you to do a risky brain biopsy on a healthy Trooper. _“For science,”_ he said. You were pretty sure he needed to be locked up and the key thrown away. In all honesty, cancelling that meeting would be a blessing for both you _and_ Amena.

“What all will this entail?” you asked, not willing to give him a firm answer just yet.

Kylo bit at the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Watching, mostly. Just watch the training. Be there by me. Keep me from ripping Stratoveer apart with my bare hands.”

“You really think that I'm capable of stopping you when you get angry?”

“Sometimes you are.”

_True_. But you still didn't feel like you were of much help during his tantrums. “What will I need to bring with me? And for how long will I be gone?”

“Only a day,” he explained. “We would leave in my ship in the morning, and I would have you brought back in the evening. I may have to stay for a few days, but you would be able to come back sooner.”

That meant you wouldn't need someone to watch Pickles, at least.

“And you'll need a coat,” he added.

“How warm? What kind of coat?” You had a light winter coat—something that you could wear during cold flights through space—but winter clothes weren't something that you had many of since your home planet had been rather warm.

“A heavy one. We'll be outside for part of the training. A pair of boots would also be wise; the snow gets deep this time of year.”

You felt a lump grow in your throat.

_Snow._

“Kylo...” you began, not exactly knowing how he was going to react. “I've never even _seen_ snow before, much less been out in it.”

His dark eyes widened. Apparently, that was surprising. “Never?”

“No, never. Hell, I've never even felt temperatures below freezing! The closest I've ever been to snow is seeing some frost in the mornings back home.”

“You'll be lucky to get temperatures above -10,” he admitted, looking slightly worried. Suddenly, you were like a baby bird in his eyes—fragile and naïve to the realities around you.

“I don't... Shit, Kylo. I don't have _anything_ to keep me warm enough.” All that quickly, the entire excursion was slipping through your fingers just like the silky hair that you had let go of as Kylo stood. He paced for a moment, a gloved hand against his mouth as he contemplated the situation.

“Meet me at your apartment,” he finally commanded, eyes staring into space as he continued to pace and think. “In an hour. I'll have what you need.”

He was almost to the doorway again with his helmet in hand, looking every bit as determined as a soldier ready for battle. But he paused for just a moment, and then swiftly came back to you. “Stand up.”

You raised an eyebrow but obeyed. He measured where the top of your shoulders came to his chest and then glanced down to your feet. “And what size are your shoes?”

You told him, and he gave a nod. His hand slipped beneath your chin, tiling your head up so that he could give you a kiss, and then he had turned around, coat fluttering behind him as he left without another word. The kiss was still on your lips, burning into every cell in your body.

_Damn him._ Your fingers had pressed against your mouth, wanting him back. _Damn him entirely._

* * *

An hour later, you were back to your apartment, sitting in your easy chair with Pickles curled around your shoulders. Kylo Ren's old book was open on your lap, but you had barely read anything for the past ten minutes as you expected his arrival. The book was decent. Not as interesting as the adventure novel that he had given to you several weeks before, but it still gave you some insight into his mind—into the way he thought and interacted with the world around him. It was some ancient political tome that explained the Force through analogies of light and dark. At first, you had thought the book was being serious about there being a “Light side” and “Dark side”, but by this point, you were fairly sure that it was just some kind of on-going allegory that the author had taken a little too seriously.

When Kylo finally managed to come by your apartment, he entered with his hands full of dark clothing and a pair of calf-high boots in black, patent leather. He dropped the boots at your front door and pulled off his helmet as he crossed over to you.

“Try this on,” he commanded, handing you what ended up being a black, military-issue coat. The First Order insignia was embroidered on the left sleeve in white, and the entire coat was made of thick, felted wool that was cut into a trench style. You had seen the same type of coat on General Hux and some of the captains, though this one lacked the white rings around the sleeve that distinguished rank.

“Where did you get this?” you asked as you held the coat before you. It went down past your knees and looked warmer than anything you had ever worn. You wandered over to the full length mirror that was attached to the closet door by your bed and started to push your arms through the sleeves.

Kylo walked up behind you, watching your reflection as you buttoned the coat over your chest. “It was from a surplus supply room.”

“So you stole it.”

“Nobody questions me.”

You damn near rolled your eyes out of their sockets at him, but he was grinning as he stood behind you, and you could see why. The coat fit you just about perfectly, hugging over curves in just the right way and making you look like a damned goddess of the First Order. In that moment, it hit you that you weren't quite _you_ any more. You felt so _official_ , so much a part of the First Order that it was disconcerting. It was so strange to think that you had only signed yourself away as a contracted scientist, and yet here you were, dressed in black as though you were no different from the upper echelons of the military. It made you question why you were here... what you were about to stand for. Fight for.

You watched in the mirror as Kylo wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both looked forward.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“You're fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled. His hands were pressed against your stomach, pulling you back until you were against his torso, and you twisted your head to the side so that you could kiss him. His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, moving greedily down your neck, and a tiny gasp escaped from your lips as he gave a nibble. He laughed and then was kissing you even harder, from your neck and then back up to your lips. You could feel his tongue against yours, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip, and his hands trying to figure out where exactly to go considering the coat that was still buttoned over you.

Your fingers slipped down to his, giving a squeeze, and then you were unbuttoning the coat as quickly as possible, letting it slide from your shoulders and onto the floor. His hands were grasping at you, sliding from your stomach to your hips with a few fingers lingering under your shirt as he took in the feeling of your skin. A shiver rolled down your spine at the touch, and you spun around to face him so that you could hold his face in the palm of your hand with the other running through his hair and pulling at thick waves. Kylo let out the tiniest hint of a moan, and then his hands were behind your back, running beneath your shirt again and up your spine as he felt each and every vertebrae.

Every single touch was like a firework exploding, like an electric shock. You didn't know what was him and what was the Force as the humming came alive around you. The air was on fire, your _mind_ was on fire. Everything was so incredibly loud as he got closer and closer, and then all at once, you saw a flash of light.

Thoughts, feelings, desires, memories all came tumbling through your head so quickly that you didn't know which were yours and which were his. All you knew was that you were seeing so many things at the same time—as though a tunnel had been connected between your minds so that everything was instantly shared. The humming was deafening in your ears. The feeling of his fingers and mouth overwhelming. The sight of millions of thoughts intertwining and emotions roaring within you had your head spinning in vertigo.

All the while, Kylo was pulling you to him whilst simultaneously pushing you into the wall so that you could feel the cold metal at your back. His hips were against yours, hands grabbing at everything he could reach. Each touch was animistic in nature, as though he had no control, no experience with another body that was just as enthusiastic as his own. His thoughts raced into your mind, thoughts of where he wanted to put his mouth, how much he loved your hands in his hair. And you realised as he moved that he could hear _your_ thoughts, could see what _you_ wanted.

“ _You're in my mind,_ ” you gasped between kisses, not sure if you had spoken out loud or had merely thought it. It didn't matter which was the case; he had heard you.

_“I didn't mean to.”_ His voice was back in your head along with a flood of emotions. You hadn't meant to go inside of his head, either, so you supposed that made you even.

You could feel every passing piece of his affect, feel the rage that lied permanently within him, feel his hunger for your skin, the need, the longing, the hatred of himself and everything that he did, and the pained adoration for you that tried to burst from his chest with every kiss. His mind was a tidal wave that had pulled you head first into flooded waters.

Kylo twisted an arm beneath your bottom, picking you up as though you weighed nothing at all. He let you fall into the bed that was only a step away, and then he was crawling up beside you, his face lingering above yours.

The humming of the Force had started to fade, and the flash of light that had been burned into your mind was growing dim. His thoughts seemed to grow weaker, quieter, and you realised that whatever connection you had just created was slowly dissipating.

You stared up at Kylo, your hands cupping his jaw as both of you caught your breath. Slowly, he kissed you again, this time in control of himself. He pulled at your bottom lip with a bite as he inched away, and then his arms were wrapped around you, bringing you to his body. He cradled your head against him, closing his eyes.

“What just happened?” you whispered.

He didn't answer for such a long time that you almost wondered if he had fallen asleep. But his voice finally came through in a hoarse whisper. “I never meant for this to happen.”

You had figured as much after having just read all of his thoughts for several minutes. “I know.”

A nearly paralysing fear had come over him as he hugged you tighter and buried his face into your hair. You could feel his heart beating as though it would rip from his body. Could feel that fear in all of its absolution. It was so different than in the past, though. All of this time, you had understand his emotions, could sympathise with him. But now you could actually _feel_ his fear. It was as though an empathetic gateway had been opened.

“I need to know,” you demanded, voice laced with his terror that was transferring into you. “What is this?”

“It's a Force Bond,” he answered. The very words were knives in his throat.

“What does that mean?” The question escaped from your lips on instinct, but you already knew. You could feel the meaning in your very bones.

“It means that we're connected.”

You swallowed hard, already knowing what he was going to say next.

“...That you will never be rid of me no longer how hard you try.”

He was holding onto you for dear life.

“You'll never be safe again.”

* * *

 

**A/N:** Lol. This was interesting to write. Also, not gonna lie, the entire conversation between Kylo and the reader about never seeing snow is lifted 100% from a conversation I had with a friend from Sri Lanka during our first semester of undergrad. I was getting excited about an incoming snow storm and what I like to do in the snow, and she just looks at me deadpan and is like, “One time I saw frost while jogging in the mountains.” Bless her soul, I've never seen someone look so simultaneously terrified and excited at seeing snow for the first time.

For those of you who listen to the playlists, the chapter numbers do not correspond because I ended up adding an extra chapter, which threw things off.

 


	18. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Force Bond has been set in place between you and Kylo Ren, changing the game when it comes to your relationship. This new connection only seems to exacerbate your growing frustration concerning Captain Stratoveer, who seems bound and determined to make Kylo Ren as angry as possible.

**Playlists:** [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science-battle-mode-activated) (new!), [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IakDItZ7f7Q&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhY06l3OOvoFud1pzBeU9bng)

* * *

_Snow._

White, fluffy, shimmering snow covered the Starkiller Base in its entirety, gleaming brilliantly in the morning light as you landed in Kylo Ren's ship. It was unlike anything that you had ever seen, and all that you wanted was to get off of the ship and touch it—see if it was as cold as you imagined, if it was as light and soft. Kylo watched you from his seat within the ship as you pressed your face to a tiny window in awe. He tried to hide his smiles lest Captain Stratoveer see, but you could feel every one of his emotions as though they were your own.

Everything had seemed to change from the day before. Whatever exactly had occurred as you and Kylo Ren had passionately attacked each other's faces was beyond you; it had all been a rush. But in the aftermath, both of you had come to the realisation that something was massively different. The connection that had been made through the Force hadn't been some fleeting thing. It wasn't a temporary visit into each other's minds but was what Kylo had tried to explain as being a permanent bridge that could feed thoughts, feelings, and emotions between two Force sensitive people. It was a Force Bond. And it was permanent.

_Permanent._

That word had drifted through your mind over and over again throughout the night. As you had clung to Kylo in your bed, it had repeated.

“Yes... More or less permanent,” he had mumbled whilst holding you to his chest. “Now go to sleep.”

Apparently your thoughts had been keeping him up, which was something that you were going to have to get used to. A veil of privacy had been lifted with that Bond, but in its place was a new level of intimacy that you had never experienced with another person. It was as terrifying as it was intoxicating.

As the ship landed in the base's hanger, you wanted to be the first one off board to see the snow, though Kylo warned that the base was so huge that it would take a good deal of travelling through endless hallways to get to the snowy forests.

“You'll be there soon enough,” he mentioned, voice now distorted by his helmet. He stood beside you as the docking ramp of the ship lowered but didn't dare to touch you affectionately with Stratoveer lurking behind. Just because the captain knew that there was something between you didn't mean that he knew _everything_ , and Kylo wanted to keep it that way.

“I just want to see the snow,” you whined whilst walking into the hanger. The base's hanger was nearly as big as the entire satellite where you had spent the past few months, and a chilly wind whipped between the ships. You had a feeling that this wouldn't be the first time during the trip that you would be thankful for the military issue coat and boots.

“It isn't as exciting as you would like to believe,” he reassured.

Stratoveer broke into the conversation from behind, his hand on your arm as he spoke even though it was obvious that you were disgusted. “You mustn't be well travelled to have never seen snow, then. A shame against your education,” he commented.

Your eye was twitching as you held your tongue, but Kylo interjected in your stead.

“Shut your mouth, Ardeus. You've opened it once, and I'm already sick of you.”

A wicked snarl painted Stratoveer's face as he silently walked behind. His entire body seemed to be twitching with anger. If he could have strangled Kylo Ren right there and then, he would have.

A few Storm Troopers who had ridden in the ship to the base lead the way out of the hanger with the three of you following along. Kylo refused to let you get behind him the entire walk, always making sure that he could keep an eye on you or keep you within arm's reach. At first, it seemed almost possessive, as though you were _his_ and no one else's. But a fluttering nervousness was within him, leaking through his thoughts that you could feel as your own. It was out of _fear_ that he kept you close. This place wasn't safe.

Well, _no place_ was actually safe, it would seem. But this place especially set him on edge. His mind was set as a guardian.

_“What has you so afraid?”_ You hoped that he could hear your thoughts in that moment.

He was staring straight forward as he followed the Troopers, but you saw his hand twitch toward yours for a moment before withdrawing back to his side.

_“Kylo, I'm only here to watch the two of you train; it'll be fine.”_

But you could tell that he didn't fully agree. His will to have you by his side during the training only marginally outweighed his anxiety concerning your safety. You would have ignored his worries and carried on with what you were doing, but with the connection now forged between you, it was difficult to drown out the emotions that emanated from him.

_“You're stressing me out,”_ you eventually thought. And like a dimmer switch, his emotions seemed to lessen, no longer running full force toward you but now just simmering in the background.

That was better.

After nearly fifteen minutes of walking down twisted halls within the base, the Troopers finally stopped at a large door in a dark hallway. Their body language was suddenly tense beneath their white armour. Kylo turned to you as the Troopers left the three of them, and he spoke aloud for the first time since having scolded Stratoveer.

“Stay here.” He glanced to the metal door that would inevitably be slid open for them with the push of a button. “Just for a few minutes.”

You watched as Stratoveer hit the button and walked inside the ill illuminated room, and Kylo followed after him with you still in the hallway. The heavy door immediately closed behind them, sealing the room and locking automatically with a set of echoing clicks.

You weren't sure what was on the other side of that door and in the dark, cavernous room, but you knew without a doubt that it was the source of Kylo's anxiety. Try as he might to stifle it, you could feel him quaking. He wanted to hide, wanted to dash away, wanted to kill and maim. And that was enough to get you moving away from the door so that maybe, _just maybe_ , Kylo could calm the fuck down. If you were further away from that room, the better.

Meandering down the hall, you met up with yet another—this one more light as its windows overlooked a dense forest of evergreens, all coated in snow. Your walk slowed at seeing this, and you eventually stopped to stare out at the winter wonderland. It felt like forever since you had last seen trees so close even though it had only been a few months. And then there was that snow! _Snow!_ It was even more beautiful up close as the flakes drifted down to the ground.

“Hey, whatcha doin' here?” A booming voice came from behind you, sending you jumping into the air with a spin.

A tall, thin woman stood in uniform, her bleached-blonde hair spiky and freckles covering her nose. She didn't appear to be upset that you were randomly wandering the halls but merely curious.

“I'm waiting for someone,” you answered.

She nodded and held out her hand for you to shake. “The name's Deirdre. And you don't actually work here, do ya? I can tell.” She pointed to the left sleeve of your coat. “No little white rings to show yer status.”

“I'm not in trouble am I?”

“Ah, hell no,” she laughed. Her facial expressions seemed overly exaggerated. “But ya don't wanna be here. It's not the safest place t'be on the base.”

Deirdre started to turn down the hallway, motioning you to follow, but the echoes of a massive door opening and closing stopped you. You couldn't see down the dark hallway from where you had come, but the footsteps coming closer let you know that Kylo must be getting closer.

Deirdre seemed nervous and tried to rush you over to her with another wave of her hand. “Seriously,” she hissed out in a whisper, “Anyone comin' down that hall's bad news. Come on!”

But you ignored her. Kylo's darkened silhouette was finally in sight with Stratoveer trailing behind. They entered the hallway, and Deirdre looked as though she could jump out of her skin. Kylo also ignored Deirdre as she high tailed it away down the hall. He put his hand to your back, guiding you along beside him.

“There you are...” he said, annoyed but obviously relieved. “I told you to stay where you were.”

“Whatever was in that room, I didn't want to be near it.”

“I don't blame you.”

“Ren,” you heard Stratoveer interrupt. “What Snoke said--”

“ _Did I give you permission to speak of that?_ ” Kylo hissed.

Stratoveer didn't seem to back down. “He said that it was mine, Ren.”

Kylo turned around, fidgeting with something attached to his belt that had been hidden under his beat up cloak. “Take it, then!” he snapped, slamming a lightsaber into Stratoveer's greedy hands.

You stared in shock that such a powerful weapon would be given to a man like the captain who was so cocky, so unruly, so _untrustworthy_. And Stratoveer seemed equally as surprised as he held the unlit saber like a precious relic. It was silver with small threads of black running along it's length for increased grip, and the entire hilt was nearly the length of your forearm. Stratoveer held it in front of him, turning on the power activator with a smooth _whoosh_. It glowed bright red like a signalling baton, buzzing gently as it moved through the air. He adjusted a trigger near his thumb, watching as the blade length changed with each toggle. It was uncomfortable to watch him play with such a dangerous weapon, but the saber seemed less menacing by design than Kylo Ren's—almost more stable, its humming gentle and blade clean rather than jagged and burning like Kylo's. For the first time, it occurred to you that Kylo Ren's lightsaber was entirely different from the norm.

Stratoveer was giddy as he clicked the saber off and held it firmly in his right hand.

“This is all I have wanted,” he said in awe.

Kylo groaned and turned around, his hand once again at your back so that you would be directly beside him. “Keep it off until we're outside.”

Another few minutes passed of walking down various halls until Kylo finally stopped at a set of sliding doors that lead directly outside. He unlocked the doors, and all at once, a blast of freezing air was howling into the hallway from the opening doors.

“Holy shit, that's cold!” you gasped, hands flying to your face to cover your cheeks that were stinging with the icy wind. Kylo huffed out a laugh as you both walked down a series of steps to the snow below. You could feel it crunch beneath your feet.

“Is snow supposed to crunch?”

This time, Kylo was honestly laughing at you. He took the helmet from his head and set it in the snow, his hair whipping around his face with the wind. He took the hooded cloak that had been at his shoulders and wrapped it around your own, pulling the hood over your hair. Instantly, the wind felt less harsh, and you pulled the rugged ends of the cloak tight over your face to block out the cold. The snow may as well have been razor blades for how they felt against your bare skin, and you didn't know how Kylo could handle it with his helmet off.

You reached up to touch his cheek that was already slightly pink. He gave you a wane smile. “It's colder with the metal helmet on.”

His eyes flickered to Stratoveer, who was already out in the snow with his lightsaber on, cutting through ice and air alike, and Kylo frowned. The idiot was going to get himself killed. He left you still on the snow-covered steps with his helmet and withdrew his own lightsaber, letting it roar to life.

“Turn it off until you know how to handle a saber,” Kylo commanded whilst swinging his lightsaber in a figure-eight with ease. He got closer to Stratoveer and showed the man how to position his hands around the hilt. “Sith blades aren't to be taken lightly. They're unstable.” He motioned to the bottom of the hilt that was tucked beneath Stratoveer's palm. “The synthetic crystal rests here along with a reserve power cell, and it won't be easy to control. Use both of your hands.”

Stratoveer had been holding the saber in only his right hand until that moment and begrudgingly moved his left onto the hilt. “I am not a child, Ren. I think that I can handle such a weapon.”

“You're wrong,” Kylo growled as he corrected Stratoveer's grip.

Stratoveer grimaced and turned on his saber, causing Kylo to jump to the side.

“DID I TELL YOU TO TURN IT ON?” Kylo yelled, knocking the lightsaber out of Stratoveer's hands with his own blade. It shut off, lying in the snow.

Cautiously, the captain stretched out his hand, letting the saber fly back to him with the Force. “No. You didn't.” There was no remorse in his voice.

“Then don't! Follow my damned instructions!” Kylo demanded. “You can turn it on when I say to.”

Kylo helped him reposition his hands once again and finally gave clearance for the simple saber to come to life. Then Kylo slowly moved his own blade so that it lightly hit against Stratoveer's. He gave commands every now and then as they began to spar, red blades meeting faster and faster.

Eventually, you sat down in the snow to watch the sparring. You were undeniably cold, but watching a lightsaber battle—even if it was for training—wasn't something you had ever had an opportunity to see. You felt sorry for Kylo throughout the session. He was so frustrated with having to constantly correct the captain. Correct his grip, his stance, the way he moved the saber. Apparently, fighting with a lightsaber was much more technical than it appeared. There were so many extra rules that Kylo had to remind him of due to the synthetic crystal that produced the blade. Every time that the captain fucked up, you could feel Kylo's rage flowing through you. You could feel the sting of his cheeks in the wind, the heat building in his chest, the twitching of tired, angry muscles.

More than an hour had passed of this training when Stratoveer decided that he was ready to hold the saber with one hand, and Kylo stood back, fuming mad.

“I never allowed you to take your left hand from the grip,” he growled. He was like a kettle ready to boil over.

Stratoveer slowly replaced his hand, but as he raised the saber against Kylo's in another set of sparring, he removed his hand, letting the saber curve through the air as he turned. It may have looked impressive, but Kylo Ren's fiery blade overpowered his instantly, and Stratoveer clumsily lost grip of the saber as it twisted forward in a spin. The blade was still on as it twirled, and Stratoveer instinctively reached for the hilt, causing it to knock off balance. And then there was a mighty roar of a yell as the blade fell into the snow, still glowing bright red as it melted through the icy ground.

Everything had happened so fast that you had barely paid attention, but the roar that ripped through the air came from your own mouth as well, and you fell forward off the steps. Your hand grasped at your right thigh from an instant shock of pain, but you lifted your fingers, confused. Your attention was immediately drawn to Kylo Ren who was furiously screaming out.

He was grasping at his thigh as well, but where nothing had been wrong with yours, his was a different story. A strike from the blade had burned through his coat and padded armour and had left an instantly cauterised gash across the top of his thigh. The smell of burnt skin wafted through the air with the snow, and Kylo let out another yell—this time not out of surprise and pain but out of the pure rage that he could no longer control.

You scrambled to your feet, ready to pull him away from the situation and make sure that he was all right, but he held out a hand toward you, fingers flexed as the Force brought every muscle in your body to a halt. You were caught in the middle of motion, one arm stretched out as your legs were trapped as though still running. It was a struggle to even move your eyes as you helplessly watched his anger explode.

“YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO ME!” Kylo screamed, thrashing his lightsaber into a nearby tree to send wood chips flying through the air.

Stratoveer started to back up, his hands held out in front of him as though he was ready to surrender and save his own skin.

Kylo was clutching the wound with one hand as he hit at the tree again, causing a branch to sever and fall to the ground in a whirling fog of snow. “YOU TAKE ME FOR GRANTED,” he continued, voice growing more terrifying. “OUT OF YOUR AGEIST ELITISM.”

Stratoveer was still backing up, but his face was growing angrier as Kylo screamed. “I take you for granted because you are a spoiled child of the First Order!” he shot back. “Your fighting is sloppy and reckless, as is everything else that you do!”

Kylo's dark eyes were wild, and every bit of his fury was entering into your mind until you didn't know which of you was more livid. He swung his saber beside the captain's face, threatening him. “ _I'M_ THE CHILD?!” Kylo pulled the other lightsaber from the snow and held it out before him so that both blades could be on either side of Stratoveer. “Me? The child? When you are the one who doesn't listen, who thinks that he will be Snoke's favourite and yet is completely insignificant in my comparison? I REFUSE TO TRAIN SOMEONE LIKE YOU. SOMEONE WHO IS SO FUCKING FAR INTO HIMSELF THAT HE CAN'T LISTEN TO A SINGLE DAMNED DIRECTION IF HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT!”

Stratoveer stood between the two sabers, dark and eerily calm. “That is not your decision to make but Snoke's.”

Kylo didn't care. “Then you can tell Snoke that you quit! You can explain on your own why you will no longer be receiving training!” Kylo backed off a few steps and turned off Stratoveer's lightsaber as he still swung about his own. “TELL HIM, ARDEUS. TELL HIM HOW FUCKING INSIGNIFICANT YOU ARE!” he demanded. “EXPLAIN HOW YOU ACTED OUT OF LINE FOR THE LAST TIME!”

And then in one fluid motion, Kylo had tossed Stratoveer's lightsaber into the air and brought his blade down upon it, slicing clean through the metal so that the synthetic crystal could snap out of place and be left lying bare upon the snow.

Stratoveer fell to his knees, wanting to reach out for the lightsaber that he had only owned for such a short time. The synthetic crystal burned bright red in the snow, sparking and sputtering. Kylo kicked a chunk of ice and snow on top of it, screaming out as the gash on his leg tore open with movement. He turned off his saber, and a hand pulled away from his leg drenched in blood.

_“KYLO!”_ You were screaming as loud as you possibly could from within your own head, hoping and praying that he would hear you—that he would release you from this paralysis. He turned to you, his gloved hand still held up and dripping blood into the snow below him like an inverted night sky.

He dropped his hand to his side, and at that moment, you felt your body relax, and you fell to the snowy ground face first. Swatting at the snow that seemed to have gotten absolutely everywhere, you ran toward Kylo who was now walking over to you with a hand held over his wound.

“Let me see!” you gasped, falling to your knees so that you could inspect the bleeding gash. But Kylo knocked your hands aside and kept walking forward with a slight limp.

“It's fine!” he barked.

“No it isn't!”

You ran after him, pulling him to face you, and he refused to meet your eyes. His face was dangerously pale and hair plastered to his face from the wet snow; he looked absolutely terrible.

“Kylo, let me help you,” you begged.

He shook his head with eyes squeezed closed and a pained grimace. It was taking all of his effort not to scream again for as long as he could—until his voice gave out and lungs collapsed from lack of air. God how he wanted to scream and just keep screaming! He wanted to hold onto your shoulders and yell into the ground until there was no strength left in him at all. But he took in a deep breath instead, steadying himself by holding onto your arms.

“I'm going to kill him,” he gasped in exasperation.

“No.”

“I will!”

“No, you won't.”

“Then _you_ kill him!”

“I can't do that.”

“Yes you can!” His arguments were getting weaker, but his anger hadn't dissipated in the slightest.

You tried to focus on your own mind without him influencing it. Any scrap of calm that was residing in your being needed to be put to use. His grip on your arms loosened ever so slightly, and you brought your hands to his head, wiping the wet hair from his face.

“Forget about him,” you whispered.

He looked up at you with those dark, hooded eyes and wanted to do as you said. If he could have gone inside without a single thought of the captain's existence, he would have. But instead Kylo Ren's attention turned to Stratoveer who was still on his knees in the snow.

“You...” Kylo Ren's voice was acid and fire that cut through the icy air. Stratoveer glanced up from beneath furrowed brows. “We're going back to see Snoke.”

Stratoveer swallowed a lump in his throat, face suddenly turning as pale as Kylo's.

Kylo took your hand to pull you back up the stairs and toward the sliding doors. He lifted his helmet from the snow, shoving it over his head.

“And we're going _now_.”

* * *

**A/N:** Btw, this will not be the last time you all meet Deirdre O'Donovan, who is literally my favourite oc that I have ever created. And if you guys are interested in learning more about lightsabers, I totally recommend the Star Wars wikia. Here's a link about Sith lightsabers, which are what Kylo and Stratoveer would be using: <http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sith_lightsaber>


	19. A Meeting with Snoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Kylo Ren and Captain Ardeus Stratoveer face the wrath of the Supreme Leader Snoke as you watch from far away. You believe that you are safely hidden. You are wrong.

**Playlists:** [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science-battle-mode-activated), [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSQ3BJVMfAI&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhYGKfheqGBLEl2WexNxFhM7)

* * *

Regardless of the searing pain that was coursing through his body, Kylo Ren was bound and determined to _personally_ drag Captain Ardeus Stratoveer from the snow where they had been training, down the long, metal plated halls of the base, and into the very room where Supreme Leader Snoke's hologram could come to life before them.

“Ren, you are wasting your time!” Stratoveer complained as Kylo continued to drag him along by his upper arm. You followed behind, only keeping up with Kylo's long strides because he was limping. Blood had continued to pour from the cauterised wound on his thigh that had ripped open, and it had soaked through his pants, into his boots. You swore that you could feel the hot, sticky blood in your own right boot as he walked.

It was taking all of your strength to block Kylo's fury from transferring into your own thoughts. The Bond was so fresh, so strong. To ignore it took so much of your concentration, but it was necessary. If he wasn't going to be level-headed right now, then you would need to be.

“Ren! Ren, are you listening to me?” Stratoveer called again, trying to shake his arm free. The captain kept trying to dig his heals into the floor to slow Kylo Ren, but it only ended in him being tugged along at an even quicker pace.

Kylo lead the way back down the dark hallway from before and stopped in front of the giant metal doors. Slamming Stratoveer into the door frame, Kylo started to hit a code to open the door.

“This time, _actually_ stay here,” he demanded of you. “Keep quiet.”

He finished entering a specific code, and when the doors opened, Kylo shoved Stratoveer into the chamber, letting the doors close behind them. But this time, the metal doors didn't slide closed with an automatic lock. They were _almost_ closed, and to anyone who hadn't watched them slide back into place, they would have believed them to be. But a tiny crack remained between the edge of the door and the frame, just enough for you to peak through.

From your vantage point, all you could see was darkness within the room and hear Stratoveer struggling against Kylo Ren as he continued to shove him further inside. Then a light began to flash from a hologram projector to reveal a colossal seated figure.

Your heart felt like it had skipped a beat.

Sitting nearly forty metres high was the familiar man that you had seen twice in your dreams. A scar ran down his ancient face that was striped in wrinkles, and his eyes seemed hollow, as though he had been brought back from a year of rotting in the grave. He was even more terrifying in person than you could have imagined.

 _So this is Snoke_. The man whom you had heard so much about through the slips of tongues and secret conversations.

Snoke stared down at Kylo Ren and Stratoveer as though they were ants, and Stratoveer looked a mess under the scrutiny. Pale and nearly green, he appeared ready to vomit.

“Oh, Ren... Every time that you return so soon, I expect the worst,” Snoke rumbled.

Kylo Ren had shoved Stratoveer forward so that he was on his knees and ready to grovel before Snoke.

“Fucking tell him what you've done!”

Stratoveer began to sputter out excuses, his hands trembling as he reached out for Snoke's forgiveness.

“Ren is your commander and master. Disobeying him is disobeying me.” Snoke allowed the words to sink in before turning his massive head toward Kylo Ren. “And as for you... I have not given you permission to end his training.”

Stratoveer suddenly looked hopeful. “Supreme Leader! Don't let him make this decision. I am gifted in the Force--”

“YOU ARE REPLACEABLE!” Kylo Ren roared back. He ripped his helmet from his face and threw it toward Stratoveer, just missing the man who had flinched out of the way.

You could feel his anger emanating even though you were on the other side of the door. Everything within the room was silent as the air electrified, and you knew that Kylo was thinking of you. _You_ were the replacement.

But you weren't the only one who could feel Kylo Ren's thoughts and feelings as they seeped into the Force-filled air. Snoke was onto him, eyes squinting at Ren's direction.

“Ren...” he began, voice heavy in suspicion. “What of the woman?”

Stratoveer glanced at Kylo Ren and then back to Snoke. “Who? What woman, Ren?”

Kylo Ren was dead silent, seething as he refused to say a word.

Snoke spoke again. “Have you started her training?”

Stratoveer was becoming more upset at being left out of the conversation and because he was starting to realise that there was someone else who could possibly stand in his way—someone who could honestly, truly replace him on his journey to the top. “WHO, REN?”

Kylo Ren shoved him aside, knocking him onto the metal floor. “Her training has been... unofficial. But she is capable.”

“Capable of taking his place? As strong?”

“I don't know.”

“Where is she?”

Kylo Ren was silent again. The last thing that he wanted was for Snoke to know that you were just on the other side of the door, listening in and so incredibly close. He wanted to protect you from Snoke, though you didn't understand what exactly it was that needed protected. Were you in _physical_ danger? Was the danger something _mental_? What was it that Snoke even wanted with you or Stratoveer or even Kylo Ren for that matter?

Snoke could tell what Kylo Ren kept hidden from how he nervously shifted his weight back and forth on his boots, to how his fingers fidgeted back to the wound on his leg to distract himself with pain. And you could feel that the Force was being used against him. Snoke was looking into Kylo's mind.

Looking into _your_ mind.

“She is here.”

It took him a while to answer. “Yes.”

“Bring her to me.”

You immediately backed up from the door so that you were against the opposing wall, heart pounding in your chest as though you had just sprinted a mile. You knew without a doubt that Snoke—the man from your dreams—meant trouble. Even without Kylo's fear running through your veins, you would have been terrified. But with having both of your emotions moving at full speed within you, it was difficult to even think, to stand, to move.

Kylo quickly opened the door, and you could tell that he was beyond livid at having to expose you to Snoke. He was terrified of what was about to happen but realised just how limited he was. There was no standing up to someone like Snoke. Not even for the most powerful man in the First Order.

“It's time that you meet Snoke,” he finally said, voice hushed. His face was still deadly pale, and his gloved hands were completely covered in his own blood. That wound was going to incapacitate him if he didn't do something about it soon, but there was nothing that either of you could do at the moment but obey Snoke.

You were literally shivering from both the cold and fear, and Kylo put his hands on your arms to try to calm both you and himself.

 _“Say as little as possible,”_ you heard him thinking. You gave a nod. Kylo stretched forward to kiss you for only a second, but it was long enough to settle some of the nerves that had been telling you to flee. Holding his hand, you let him lead you inside of the massive room.

Seeing Snoke directly before you was an otherworldly experience that you were certain would stick with you for the rest of your life. His hologram glowed steadily in the dark, and the light caught on dust that swirled away from you and Kylo. It was difficult to believe that Snoke would request _you_ specifically—that he even knew anything about you. But perhaps it wasn't _too_ surprising to find that you had been sold out. No one could be trusted here. Everyone had a knife ready to be stabbed into your back.

Snoke stared down at you for a while, analysing you like a fine painting in a museum. You could once again feel the Force in the air, vibrating until the very oxygen that you breathed seemed alive.

“You are nothing special,” Snoke finally said. You could only nod your head again, and Kylo gave your hand a tiny squeeze. You could feel the blood that had dried against his glove but didn't care. Right now, all you wanted was for him to be close to you.

“But...” Snoke continued. “You are young, malleable.”

A hiss escaped from Stratoveer's lips at hearing Snoke compliment your age. If there was anything that man hated most, it was young people thinking that they were worthy of power when experienced elders were ready to take the lead.

Snoke pretended to not hear Stratoveer's complaints. “Ren, as Stratoveer attempts to redeem himself, you shall train _her_.”

Kylo's face fell. “But--”

“I will not hear of any insubordination from you, Kylo Ren,” Snoke interrupted. “You have heard my commands.”

Kylo slowly looked down to Stratoveer who was still on the ground like a battered doll. “...The captain?” _Will I be allowed to kill him?_

Snoke heard the thought. “No. He will yet live. Consider it your punishment for having destroyed the lightsaber that was being loaned to Stratoveer. Oh, don't look so surprised, Ren. I know that you destroyed it in your anger. It was I who created its crystal—I know of its fate.”

Kylo was now squeezing your hand as hard as he could to steady himself, to keep his mouth closed instead of arguing. He knew that this wasn't just a matter of punishment. It was to show that Snoke held full control over him—that he must accept Snoke's orders without being a hypocrite. Embarrassment flooded through him; he felt like a cretin, hardly worthy of the air in his lungs.

“Forgive me,” Kylo mumbled. And for the first time, you saw him kneel down with his head held low.

“I do not forgive,” Snoke said, waving his hand so that Kylo Ren and Stratoveer would stand. “But I demand better.” He glanced at you for a moment, still judging whether you were truly worth his time. His gaze bore into you, drilling into your mind to sort through your fear, and you barely felt able to breathe. Knees trembling, you looked down, hoping that Snoke would soon be satisfied with you. Eventually, he broke eye contact and said no more on the subject. “Leave me.”

You didn't have to be told twice. You turned and ran from the room with the other two men following behind as the hologram faded into darkness. You ran into the hallway, a hand leaning against the metal wall as you tried to steady yourself with trembling limbs. You were breathing so quickly, almost gasping for breath. No... _Actually_ gasping for breath. Kylo came up behind you, his hands reaching for your face. This time, it was _he_ who was begging you to calm down.

“ _I can't!_ ” you gasped, lungs desperate for more and more air. Your head was spinning, and you wanted to clench your eyes shut, but instead you were staring down at your feet with wide, terrified eyes.

“You're panicking,” Kylo said, his voice far, far away.

You knew that, but it was too difficult to speak when you were struggling for breath. Tears were starting to escape from your eyes and drop to the metal-plated floor below. You were only vaguely aware of Stratoveer scampering down the hall to leave you and Kylo in front of the closed door.

You could feel Kylo's hand at your back, rubbing gently as you continued to gasp. Everything was so confusing in that moment. It was like your brain couldn't make sense of what had just happened and why you would feel like this. Had Snoke really scared you that much? Had his hollow-eyed stares caused all of this? Was it his digging into your brain? His rasping, demanding voice? The mere _size_ of that hologram looming above you so threateningly?

You didn't know for how long you stayed there against the metal wall, trying so hard to breathe and yet stop breathing at the same time, losing sense of everything around you. It could have been a minute, ten, an hour. You really had no idea. But as things finally slowed, you felt Kylo Ren's strong arms there, picking you up as though you weighed absolutely nothing. His left arm was beneath your knees, right arm around your back, and then he was walking steadily down the dark hallway with only the smallest of limp as he stepped on his right leg. You felt into his mind and knew that he was in pain, but he was trying his best to ignore it. Somehow, _you_ had taken precedence.

_“You're too injured to be carrying me.”_

“It's stopped bleeding; I'm fine.”

_“But it still hurts you.”_

“Many things hurt me. This is no different.”

You sighed. There was no winning this argument.

_“Thank you.”_

He leaned his head toward yours, giving a kiss to your forehead. It was such a small, tender gesture. So different from who he had been when screaming at Stratoveer or facing Snoke. Kylo Ren was not a man of pure darkness, whether he would like to believe as much or work toward being so. You already knew this, but the reminder was staggering in that moment.

He grimaced, hearing your thoughts. “Don't compare me to the Light.”

 _“I'm not.”_ Why did he have to think that there was a solid dichotomy between Light and Dark? You gathered all the strength you could to actually speak aloud. “I'm comparing you to neither. Both.”

Kylo still didn't look amused, but he cradled you closer to him so that your head was leaning against his shoulder, face pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Grey,” you finally whispered.

He flinched.

“ _Grey_ , Kylo. I'm comparing you to something entirely Grey.”

 

 **A/N:** I am unashamed of my hopes that Kylo Ren becomes a Grey Jedi in the next Episode, just sayin'. Next chapter should be up in a couple of days.


	20. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Ardeus Stratoveer seeks his revenge, and shit hits the fan.

**Content Warning:** This chapter gets medically intense. There are fairly graphic descriptions of ER trauma, including vomiting.

* * *

 

If there was a positive outcome to the disaster of Captain Ardeus Stratoveer's disobedience on the Starkiller Base, it was that he finally no longer felt welcome to invite himself to the cafeteria table in the third alcove. Admittedly, you and Kylo Ren had been avoiding the cafeteria ever since Stratoveer had started to come around in the evenings, but now the embarrassment kept him away. Stratoveer could now be found on the opposite end of the cafeteria during meals, eating in silence among a few other captains and lieutenants.

Kylo had his arm wrapped around your waist as you walked toward the cafeteria, drawing you close to his side. You savoured every moment as you walked along, devouring the closeness whilst still being careful to not bump into his right leg, which was still healing. He had tried to convince you that it didn't hurt him to be touched, but you knew better.

You had sat together in his ship just a few days before, cleaning the wound on his thigh as he hissed. You weren't qualified to give him sutures, but a few butterfly closures would do until he could see Dr Amena for better care. The cauterisation had closed most of the wound, thankfully. It was only the torn gash that was still bleeding and stinging with every touch of your gloved fingers.

“I should have killed him,” he groaned as you applied another adhesive strip to the wound.

You shook your head, letting your fingers trail from his open wound to some of the white scars that covered his bare leg. “Did you kill everyone else who gave you these scars?”

Kylo frowned and pulled your hand away. “You don't want to know who all I have killed.”

He was probably right.

Sometimes you  _did_ wonder, though. You walked the halls with him, devouring all of those tender touches, but you knew that Kylo Ren's hands were just as capable—hell,  _more_ capable, even—of killing. He was commanding an army, a movement, practically an entire galaxy! How many lives that had been taken in order to reach his goals were probably uncountable. And this fact should have haunted you. The cognitive dissonance of dating a  _murderer_ should have been enough to send you fleeing, but it didn't. You still hadn't quite figured out why. Maybe it was that Kylo Ren was so incredibly sure of his goals—of his need to right some inherent wrong in the universe out of some selfless nobility. Maybe it was just something that you were capable of overlooking because he was so human beneath your touch, thirsty and begging for your affection.

Maybe you were just more capable of forgiveness than you had ever anticipated. You didn't know.

When the two of you entered into the cafeteria during dinner, it was absolutely packed with a rush of Storm Troopers and personnel, all going through various lines for food, chatting with trays in their hands as they waited. The kitchen area of the cafeteria was expansive in size though lacking in quality and choices alike. The food was often bland, but you were thankful to finally have a night off from cooking. You only had so much creativity after long days of research, and Kylo was absolutely helpless when it came to preparing anything to eat. You were lucky that he hadn't burnt down your entire kitchen whilst trying to help you.

You both entered into a line, Kylo's foot tapping in frustration at having to wait. Usually he cut in front of others in line, but you held him back. It was probably a lost cause, but you hoped that he would learn a few manners.

“He's up ahead of us,” Kylo hissed, nodding his head at the front of the line where Stratoveer was getting his food and shuffling through too many things in his hands. The moment that he saw both of you in line, his face went pale.  _Good._ Let him be scared. You filled a cup with flavoured water, letting the icy cold drink distract you from the nervous captain who would have to walk past both you and Kylo in just a moment to get out of the line and back to the seating area of the cafeteria.

“And he's sweating like a pig in the slaughter house,” Kylo continued. A satisfied smirk was drawn to his lips at seeing Stratoveer shaking as he walked over. Kylo sneered a short greeting as Stratoveer was forced to walk by. “ _Captain._ ”

Stratoveer literally jumped, his tray flying forward and knocking a full cup from Kylo's tray and onto the ground. Kylo let out a hiss, flicking the drink off of his arm and glove and shaking his boot from the puddle that was now all over the floor. He looked ready to growl like a dark panther and strike for the kill, but Stratoveer darted away with Kylo's cup, fetching another from back behind in the line.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, sounding more terrified than anything else. He shoved a new glass into Kylo's wet hand and then ran with his spilled tray of food to a far away table.

Kylo filled the cup, bitching all the while about Stratoveer even being allowed to remain in existence. Honestly, you only half-listened to his complaining whilst taking a napkin to the padded armour on his arm that had been soaked. It wasn't as though Kylo was complaining about anything new, after all. Hell, he was saying the same words that you were thinking. You just let him vent as you continued to get food.

Sitting down at the cafeteria table felt so incredibly familiar. Somehow, you had only known Hux, Talia, and Phasma for a few months—not even half a year—and yet they seemed like some kind of family. If only Amena had been there, the table would have felt complete, but she was working late in the medical ward. This seemed to bother Phasma more than anyone else, but then again, they appeared to be rather close.

General Hux was snorting a laugh at Kylo as he continued to clean flavoured water from his sleeve and glove. He set the glove on the table, propping it up so that the liquid would drain out.

“That son of a bitch...” he mumbled, wiping between his fingers with another napkin that you had provided.

“I don't know,” Hux teased. “I think I rather liked the man for just that moment.”

Kylo shot him an ugly glare. “We'll see if you're so chipper after he does the same to you.”

Hux shrugged, and then Talia was laughing as she let her fingers walk along the collar of Hux's coat. “Judging by the amount that you flip shit over the tiniest of stains on your coat, you'd probably end up punching Stratoveer in the throat if he spilled anything on you.”

“I wouldn't be opposed to roughing him up,” Hux replied.

“I wouldn't be opposed to fucking killing him,” Kylo added under his breath.

Phasma rolled her eyes from her seat beside you. “The male flare for dramatics never dies.”

You tapped your glass with hers in full agreement.

Staring across the crowded cafeteria, you could see Stratoveer looking over at your table. You kept noticing him glancing up between bites, anxious and full of loathing. He looked like his life was falling apart with every passing minute. Good riddance.

“This meal is particularly disgusting today,” Kylo mumbled from your other side, and yet he kept on eating. That man's stomach seemed to never fill up. Honestly, you didn't think that the food was  _that_ bad, though you reminded him that it was  _never_ actually good. The satellite's and base's food travelled so far through space that it couldn't be kept fresh. Everything was dried before being rehydrated by the kitchen staff, which tended to kill off any flavour that the food may have once had.

“It tastes like metal and saw dust,” he complained. He took a large drink from his already half empty cup in attempt to wash down the taste, but he only looked like he was going to spit everywhere. His entire mood had taken a dip as he grimaced with each bite. You found yourself agreeing with Phasma again—men could be  _so. fucking. dramatic._

Otherwise, dinner went on as it normally should have with Hux bickering with Talia and Phasma—losing against both of them regardless of the subject matter. You listened along, laughing and occasionally joining in to shit on Hux's parade. All the while, Kylo was silently fighting to finish his dinner.

He had stopped complaining about the taste, but you could feel his discomfort, which set you slightly on the edge.

“Kylo...” You put a hand on his knee, giving a tiny squeeze. “Why are you still eating that if it tastes so bad?” It wasn't like he didn't have the authority to step back into the kitchen and demand something better.

He shook his head. “I don't know.” His hand rubbed against his throat as he swallowed. “My throat hurts like hell, though.”

“Do you think you're getting sick?” It made sense now why he would be complaining about the taste of his food. If Kylo was coming down with a cold, then his sense of smell and taste would be affected. With the amount of stress that he went through on a daily basis and with having a still open wound on his leg, it wouldn't be surprising if he was coming down with a virus.

Kylo shrugged. “Maybe... Maybe a cold.”

Great; a cold. Now he was going to be even  _more_ dramatic.

Everyone at the table continued chatting after they had finished eating, just sitting around with drinks and starting to talk about plans on the Starkiller Base and some missing map piece and which brains that Talia had recently poked and prodded. But Kylo was mute, grimacing. He got up from the table after finally finishing all of his food, and you noticed that there was a certain darkness to his face. Something seemed off. It was almost as though the darkness hung around his lips, showing up darkly against his pale skin.

You followed behind him as he began to walk with his tray and dishes toward the rubbish bins. He seemed to be walking so slow, as though his leg was hurting more just because of the start of a cold. And he was pale, sweating.

“Kylo, you're sick,” you whispered after catching up to him. “Let's just go to Amena—see what she can do for you.”

“No,” he argued.

And as Kylo opened his mouth, that's when you noticed that his tongue looked...  _black_ .  _Black?_ Yes. Almost  _black_ in colour, as though his mouth had been dyed with ink. You tried to let the mental connection increase between you, trying to feel where he was in pain, but he was trying his damnedest to hide that from you—trying to completely close the Bond. But you knew that something was wrong. His hands that held the tray were trembling, fingers turning white.

You put a hand on his arm, and he flinched with a small sway, completely dropping the tray to the floor with the shattering crash of several dishes that had broken on impact. Kylo's dark eyes were staring down at the dishes in shock as though he had no idea how he could have caused this to happen. The clatter had alarmed the entire cafeteria, sending a wave of quiet among the dining Storm Troopers and staff. Everyone was looking over, watching to see why someone like Kylo Ren would drop something unless out of anger. They thought that some kind of fight was eminent.

They were wrong.

Kylo's trembling hands grasped at his throat, and he coughed out a mouthful of spit to the floor. It was as black as his tongue, as his lips. His eyes were so wide, so scared as he looked over to you, and as he tried to take a step forward, he fell to the side with another crash into the rubbish bins.

Just that quickly, Kylo was no longer able to control the connection that lied between you, and a rush of pain broke through your senses. You could feel the intense burning in his throat that trailed down into his stomach in sickening spasms. His dizziness was so severe that he could hardly think.  _You_ could hardly think. All you knew was that Kylo was on his side by a knocked over rubbish bin, spitting out black bile.

“Kylo!”

You fell to your knees beside him, not knowing what to do. You had no idea what would cause spit to be that colour nor why his mouth had that blackish blue tone. But you could smell his breath. Smell the metallic scent in the air from his spit. This wasn't a cold—wasn't the flu or some other sickness that would cause his sense of taste to be disrupted. It was something in his food.

Your eyes suddenly searched through the crowd of Troopers and personnel who had stood to watch the scene unfold before them. But you didn't care about the people who were standing out of curiosity. Your eyes were glued to Stratoveer, who was purposefully not looking at the commotion. He was ignoring it entirely as he stared down at his food, took a sip from his glass.

No. No, this wasn't from Kylo's food.

_It was in his drink._

It was that cup—the cup that Stratoveer had given to him.

As the realisation punched you in the face, Phasma and Hux had run over to the two of you, and Hux helped pull Kylo to his hands and knees. His breathing was erratic, eyes completely wild.

_“WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?”_

“You've been poisoned,” you told him, fingers rushing to his neck to feel his pulse. His heart was beating as quickly as a frightened bird's.

Kylo spat onto the floor again, and his lips were entirely blue and black. He was so pale. So deathly pale that it terrified you.

_“I'M GOING TO VOMIT.”_ His voice was screaming in your head out of fear and pain, but no words could come to his dark lips. His eyes were looking at you, begging for help that you didn't know how to provide.  _“HELP ME.”_

Your hands were flying in front of you in a frenzy as you tried to figure out what in the hell to do. Everything was happening so fast.

“Fuck!” you screeched while trying to help him to sit up. You held back his hair as he vomited onto the floor. Unsurprisingly, it was the same colour of black as the spit and bile that had come before it, and Kylo continued to vomit violently.

You could feel the burning in your own throat, and tears began to stream down your face. His hands were clenching at his stomach in pain, and you realised that he was trying to use the Force in whatever way possible to make himself throw up the rest of what was causing this.

You turned to Phasma who was hovering beside you, just waiting for your instructions. “I need your help! He needs a doctor! Needs Amena!”

She nodded and began to lift Kylo over her shoulder. Thank God that she was so strong. Hux made a small motion as though to help but looked as though he, too, was going to vomit onto the floor. He was starting to panic as he glanced from Kylo to you. “But...  _you're_ a doctor!”

“I'm not  _that_ kind of doctor, Hux!”

Talia had caught up to you and was pulling Hux aside, trying to calm him down. Meanwhile, Phasma had completely lifted Kylo and had started to carry him out of the cafeteria. Once in the hallway, Phasma began to run at a full sprint with you, Hux, and Talia just barely keeping up behind her. It was so difficult to run when you could feel everything that Kylo felt—from the wrenching in his stomach to the tearing at his leg to so many different kinds of pain that you couldn't even fully comprehend them. But you ran anyway, ran with burning muscles and lungs pleading for you to slow down.

All of you dashed past various Storm Troopers in the hallways and into the medical ward, where Amena had been overseeing a few injured Troopers from a recent mission. Phasma dumped Kylo onto a metal table in the front room of the medical ward, and you rushed over, yelling for Amena to help you.

“IT'S AN EMERGENCY,” you shouted, fingers back at Kylo's neck to feel his pulse fluttering. “POISON.”

Amena was surprised but instantly went into emergency mode.  _She_ was the kind of doctor meant for this situation, and she ran to a medical cabinet, hands shoving various jars aside until she found a cannister of activated charcoal. Talia ran to join her, pulling on a pair of gloves and ready to take any orders necessary. They measured out a dosage, mixing the black powder with water until it was a liquid.

You tried to get Kylo to sit up in the mean time, but he was so dizzy that he could hardly move. Phasma reached out to help you keep him in a sitting position as his head leaned forward, lolling slowly as though he had no control whatsoever of his body.

“Hey, hey, Kylo,” you cooed, holding his head in your hands. He had somehow become even  _more_ pale over the past few minutes, and the black colouring had stretched to include his nose as well as his mouth. Whatever was happening to him was horrifying. He tried so hard to look at you, to lock eyes with you as though you would provide some comfort.

_“I'm dying.”_

“No you aren't!” you snapped out loud.

A hand was at your shoulder, ushering you away as Amena ran behind you with the charcoal. Kylo grimaced weakly at the mixture held before him but allowed Amena to proceed.

“Ren,” she demanded, “I need to know where your pain is.”

You answered before he could even think out a response. “His throat. Stomach. It burns.”

Amena didn't question why you knew this but nodded her head and turned back to Kylo.

“You're going to have to drink this; it will absorb anything left in your stomach.”

Kylo tried to lift his hand toward the glass but almost knocked it to the ground. Phasma shoved his hand back down to the metal table as Amena pressed the black charcoal liquid to his lips. He coughed as it went down, and you tasted it in your own throat. Stumbling to the other side of the room, you vomited into a small waste basket, feeling as though your own insides were on fire. How could this be so painful? And you were sure that you weren't even feeling the full brunt of his pain. God, how had this all happened so fast? Everything had fallen to pieces in only minutes.

You were wiping vomit from your lips when you glanced over to Hux who had been in the doorway. The strangest look was on his face—as if he no longer was aware of Kylo Ren possibly dying on the table but had come to some other more dangerous realisation. You knew what that look was. You knew which gears in his mind were clicking away, what was dawning over him.

Hux knew that the Force Bond had been created. There was no doubt on his face at all.

Meanwhile, Kylo Ren had finished drinking the disgusting dose of activated charcoal and was breathing erratically... strangely slowed and laboured.

Amena tossed the charcoal glass to Talia and began to demand that certain items be brought to her: medical scissors, saline, intravenous lines, heated blanket, blood pressure cuff. So many different things were being yelled out, and Talia didn't know where to find anything.

“Where are your aides?” she shrieked whilst tearing through a cabinet of medical supplies.

“At dinner!” Amena answered. “They're supposed to be back in an hour. Talia, for heaven's sakes, just throw me the scissors from my desk!”

“Why scissors?” she asked whilst  _literally_ throwing a pair of paper shears across the room.

Amena caught them between her palms and immediately started to cut away at Kylo's sleeve. “Because he's going into shock, and I need to start an iv line!”

_Shock_ .

What a dangerous, deadly word.

It didn't matter that you hadn't been trained as an emergency physician, because you knew damned well that shock could kill. And it could kill fast.

You pushed yourself from the waste basket and rushed over to Kylo who was barely conscious and now lying on his left side on the table. His dark eyes searched you out through the chaos of Amena taking his blood pressure, which had started to drop rapidly. He clenched his teeth, trembling, not able to focus on you.

You pulled your fingers through his hair that was drenched in sweat.

“You'll be all right,” you whispered. It was a lie. You had no idea if he would be or not, and the fact that you were crying didn't help you sound any more convincing.

Even his mind sounded exhausted and weak.  _“Bullshit.”_

You tried to laugh but instead just ended up crying even harder.

Once again, Amena shoved you out of the way so that you were waiting beside Phasma a few steps away. She put an arm around your shoulders, giving a pat. Phasma wasn't going to lie to you and say that Kylo would be fine, but you appreciated the little bit of comfort that she was willing to give.

From here, you watched as Amena gave directions to Talia on which ivs to use, how to calm the heart palpitations that were showing up on a monitor connected to Kylo's fingers, how to control the convulsions that had started as clenched teeth and now were causing him to tremble every few seconds.

“It's silver nitrate,” Amena said, throwing you off guard. She was still working to stabilise Kylo Ren but repeated herself. “The poison. It was silver nitrate. You can tell from the black discolouration. He probably ingested at least ten milligrams and is lucky he isn't already dead.” She was inserting an iv as she spoke. “How did this happen?”

A beep came from the monitor beside the table, and Amena and Talia both grimaced. Amena pointed to you and then a set of cabinets behind you and Phasma. “Dropping BP, I need high volume oxygen. NOW.”

You spun around as Phasma backed away to stand by Hux in the doorway. Searching through the cabinet, you pulled out a high volume supplemental oxygen mask and handed it to Amena so that she could tug it over Kylo's face and connect it to the obnoxiously loud oxygen tank beneath the table. Then Amena threw an electrically heated blanket over him, trying to keep him from going further into shock.

Finally, Amena took a moment to breath and turned around to face everyone else in the room.

“ _How did this happen?_ ” Amena demanded, looking from you to Phasma to Hux.

“He was poisoned,” Phasma answered, finally sitting down after the chaos.

“I  _know_ . But  _how_ ?”

You crossed over to Kylo Ren where he lied pathetically on his side, still struggling for breath. “It was Stratoveer.”

“Ardeus?” Amena crossed her arms over her tiny chest. “I know that no one likes him, but--”

“No. It was him. I'm not just blindly accusing him. He...” You thought back to what had happened in the cafeteria. “He knocked the cup from Kylo's tray. We thought it was an accident because he was so nervous, and then he brought back another cup, and oh my God, he did... He fucking poisoned it! Kylo wasn't even looking when he filled the cup up, oh my God!” Your voice was rising into hysterics. “ _He tried to fucking kill him! HE COULD_ STILL _FUCKING KILL HIM!_ ”

Amena stepped over, fingers tugging at her scarf out of nerves. “That's not enough to implicate Stratoveer for attempted murder.”

“HE. DID. THIS.” You were pointing at Kylo as you screamed, pointing at the oxygen mask against his face, the IVs, the pulse monitor, everything. “BRING HIM HERE. IF I CAN GET INTO  _KYLO'S_ MIND, I CAN GET INTO  _HIS_ .”

Amena and Phasma both looked confused and glanced over at one another with raised eyebrows. Hux, on the other hand, knew  _exactly_ what you were referring to and walked over, pulling you from your position by Kylo to roughly move you away from everyone else. It didn't even occur to you that you had just messed up by talking about the Force.

“ _What_ , Hux?”

He was spitting mad, but kept his voice quiet, trying his best to control himself. “You do realise that the Force—and your  _possible_ abilities--”

“ _Real_ abilities, Hux.  _Real_ .”

“ _That doesn't matter!_ The Force isn't something that you are allowed to shout about. Do you have  _any_ idea of the trouble you would be in if this information was public knowledge? If someone like Stratoveer knew that you were sensitive? Regardless, you are  _untrained._ ”

“He already fucking knows,” you spat back. “And so does Snoke.”

Hux's blue eyes were instantly wide, and he took a small step back in shock. “Snoke already knows? You... You actually know who Snoke  _is_ ?”

“I've  _met_ him, Hux.”

You stood up, not willing to waste any more time arguing with him. “Bring Stratoveer to me.”

“I won't do that.”

“Then I'll find him myself.”

Hux grabbed your wrist as you tried to walk away, pulling you back. “No,” he demanded. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and think through what in the hell to do with you. “You stay here with Ren.  _I'll_ get him.”

Hux was walking as fast as his long legs could carry him, fingers clenched into angry fists. Talia made to follow, but he held out a hand, barking out for her to remain put.

You turned back to Kylo, watching him gasp for breath with eyes closed. You couldn't feel anything from the Bond any more and realised that he must have slipped into unconsciousness or sleep or... hopefully nothing any worse. You pulled his hair back again and let your hand rest on his temple. All you heard was silence. No thoughts. No feelings nor emotions. No pain.

“What's going to happen to him?” you asked Amena as she adjusted his iv. “I'm not trained in this.”

Amena sighed and pulled off her scarf now that Hux had left the room. She pulled at her dark hair, trying to think through the most likely series of events. “If we keep the oxygen on, iv fluids going... then he should stabilise out of shock. But from there? I haven't seen silver nitrate poisoning outside of a textbook. It will depend on his strength whether he survives this.”

“He's full of piss and vinegar, so I would carry high hopes,” Phasma mentioned as she stood from her seat. “And as for Stratoveer... I should help Hux before he kills the man with his bare hands without finding a definitive answer concerning his guilt.”

Phasma left at a running pace, her heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

Talia ripped the gloves from her hands, tossing them into the waste basket with your vomit. She let out a small sigh of relief whilst watching the monitor by Kylo begin to show at least a little positive improvement.

“If we had waited even a few more minutes, he'd be dead, wouldn't he be?” she asked.

Amena nodded and started to plait her hair out of stress. “Yes. Dead already. But he isn't out of the woods yet.”

You looked up at that monitor and its blinking numbers, feeling fire and venom flowing through you. Never...  _never_ had you felt so much rage and terror. Never had you wanted to kill someone like you did now—like you could kill Stratoveer when he entered that room.

You watched the door, ready to face him. Ready to see into his mind the second that you accused him.

You were ready. So incredibly ready. 

* * *

**A/N:** So, this took me a while because  _apparently_ silver nitrate poisoning is not considered a sexy enough dissertation topic for fledgling scientists to make journal articles about. You would not believe the amount of digging I had to do; uggggh. Anyway, I would like to thank the National Library of Medicine's website for its in-depth articles concerning poisoning, shock, convulsions, and other first aid. Because I don't know shit about any of this.


	21. Scalpels and Sabers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Untrained and without weapon, you look death in the eyes.

**Playlists:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bag1gUxuU0g&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZZlnXBpKBzaP7pQaw0-paQ) & [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science-battle-mode-activated)

**Content Warning:** Violence and slight gore are ahead.

* * *

General Hux was already at the domed lobby of the satellite when Captain Phasma caught up to him, her blaster in hand and ready to help in whatever way possible.

“Do you have a plan, General?” she asked, walking briskly beside him. She was still without her helmet, which had been left behind at the cafeteria table along with Kylo Ren's. Her blonde hair flopped in her face, and she shoved it back. “Or shall I check the cafeteria and fetch my helmet?”

Hux still hadn't come up with any type of plan; too many worries were rushing around that up-tight brain of his. “Your helmet is not a priority at the moment, but if you want to check the cafeteria, I'll split off to check Stratoveer's living quarters.”

Phasma nodded. “And if anyone asks about Ren?”

“Tell them he's fine. This satellite is a rumour mill. Feed the flames, and word will spread.”

It was for the best that no one know what had truly happened or in how bad of a shape that Kylo Ren was in the medical ward. The truth had no business being spoken aloud when Kylo's life teetered on the edge of a knife. As general, Hux knew that he would be in charge should Kylo die, and any transition would need to be made as smoothly as possible. A power vacuum, even if for only a few minutes, could be a dangerous thing. Especially with Stratoveer lurking around, hidden in the shadows. There was no one who Hux trusted less at the moment. If the captain was willing to kill the commander of the entire First Order, then the general would be in just as much danger.

There was no doubt in Hux's mind that Stratoveer had been responsible for the poisoning. He didn't have any physical proof, but he didn't need it. The entire scenario just made too much sense for it to have  _not_ been him.

As Phasma left in the direction of the cafeteria, Hux unlocked an arsenal closet to pull an extra blaster loose. He set off the safety, immediately holding it at the ready as he got down to business. This was a deadly game of hide and seek that he was determined to win.

There was a decidedly fatal look in Hux's blue eyes as he turned down a hallway of apartments and bunkers meant for the higher members of the military, and he paused for a moment before Captain Stratoveer's door. Not bothering to knock, he shot the blaster at the door and gave a kick until it slid open.

The lights were dark as Hux entered. All was silent. He flicked on a light with the blaster held at the ready, searching room to room with no signs of Stratoveer having been there recently. Where in the hell was he? Hux was cursing under his breath. He wanted to kick at Stratoveer's desk chair that was beside him but held off. That would be channelling Ren far too much for comfort. Cursing again, he turned around to head to the command centre. Maybe Phasma would have better luck. Maybe she would have the captain in a headlock on the floor with a blaster pressed beneath his chin.

But that may be wishful thinking.

* * *

“You think he's ready to get a room?” Talia asked Amena from the other side of the medical ward's emergency room.

Amena's aides had returned from dinner a few minutes before and were keeping to themselves by the med ward entrance, occasionally sneaking glances at Kylo Ren, who was still unconscious upon the metal table. Though he was no longer gasping for breath, he still looked dreadful. An oxygen mask was pressed to his face, two ivs in his arm, and a monitor cord attached to his finger. The tangle of cords and wires ran over the heated blanket that had helped to bring him out of shock. There were still hints of black and blue around his mouth from the silver nitrate poisoning that Amena warned may not leave for a few more days.

Sometimes, he would fade into consciousness. You always knew when it happened because the Force Bond would reawaken with an ebbing of pain down your throat. He didn't say a single word—not even mentally. But his eyes sought you out. Kylo tried so damned hard to keep those black eyes glued to your face, to watch you as you looked over him. Even with all of the pain flowing within him, you stood out like a star in the night.  _Light_ . Sometimes you thought you heard him say that, but you could have been wrong.

“I think he's stable enough to be transferred,” Amena mentioned as she checked through Kylo's vitals upon the monitor. “His blood pressure has been stable for nearly an half hour, so I'm not as worried.”

Amena directed two of her aides—the bulkiest at her disposal—to lift Kylo from the metal table to a bed in another room, and you followed behind as they moved him. Of all the rooms they could have chosen to take Kylo Ren as he recovered, they chose the one where you had spent the most time since having come to the satellite, and you could feel your pulse quicken.  _Of course_ , they would choose this room—the room where SC-4341 had died.

_“Auspicious.”_

You caught only that one word from Kylo as he was placed on his left side in the bed by one aide as the other dragged along the hanging iv bag and oxygen tank. You couldn't help but agree as you sat on the edge of his bed, your fingers running along his forehead and into his dark hair as he fell back asleep.  _Very auspicious_ . You hadn't wanted to ever return to this room, but here you were.

Amena and her aides had left the room to fill out medical records for Kylo, leaving you with him to simmer in your anger. You were still burning mad but had at least let some of that rage turn into a cold, determined anger that you could use to your advantage. It was the type of fury that allowed you to do impossible feats like a rush of adrenaline. You longed for Hux to return with Stratoveer in shackles, to see him before you with fear in his eyes.

Your fingers were stuck in Kylo's hair, pulling at sweat-drenched waves and occasionally squeezing his hand so that you wouldn't boil over and run out to find Stratoveer yourself. Kylo kept waking up every now and then but was mostly completely out of it. His mind didn't make much sense at all when he tried to send you thoughts, but he liked that you were there beside him. He liked the comfort, the safety.

_“Don't leave...”_ you could hear him think.

“I won't...”

Honestly, you  _wanted_ to leave if for no other reason than to find Hux and Phasma. Where the hell were they? How fucking long did it take to find one person on this satellite? You started to wonder after a while if Hux had lied to you. Maybe he had gone out to find Stratoveer and had purposefully not brought him to you. Hell, what if Hux was interrogating him at this very moment? What if his pale, freckled fist was punching into Stratoveer's face without you?  _Damn him!_

If Kylo hadn't been holding onto your hand with his cold, tired grip, you would have tried to find Hux. Instead, you sighed and sat down in the chair beside Kylo's bed so that he could keep holding your hand as you waited impatiently.

You could hear voices from down the hall every now and then as Amena and her aides began to speak. Sometimes you thought it was Hux, but it never ended up being him. A few minutes passed, and one of the voices became angry, upset about something. You couldn't make out what was being said, but after a few seconds, you heard a yell from the bulky aide who had moved Kylo.

“PUT IT DOWN,” he shouted.

You didn't have time to question any more before you heard a blaster shoot twice. Amena's scream broke through the air in a terrified shriek, and the blaster went off again in succession. Then the blaster got closer, shooting three times down the hall with one blast missing its target to pass by the open door of the room. Another blast went off but with a jolted thud as though the blaster had jammed. You heard the blaster get banged several times against the wall along with a hushed curse, and then there was silence.

Kylo had awoken during the chaos and told you to stay. He tried to hold onto your wrist and keep you there with him, but you slipped from his weak grip to run to the doorway. Whatever was happening, you needed to make sure that everyone was safe.

You ran into the hall and immediately let out a small scream before shutting yourself up with your hands. Lying dead at the entrance of the med ward was the bulking aide, and another aide lied dead just a few steps from where you stood. You couldn't see the emergency room where Amena and Talia had been, but there was no time to move forward and check on them. All you could do was stare in shock at the aide closest to you and the blaster burns that had shot straight through her body.

Something caught in your periphery from down the hall, and you looked up to lock eyes with Captain Stratoveer. For a second, neither of you moved. He was holding a blaster down at his side, and it was sparking from a bashed-in panel. Stratoveer threw the blaster to the ground as he suddenly stepped forward, and you dashed back inside of the room, slamming the door and locking it behind you.

You looked around in a frenzy, not knowing exactly what to do.

_“What's...”_

You didn't answer Kylo but started to shove a heavy desk in front of the closed door. Then you shut out the lights so that only the monitor and exit sign could illuminate the room. Maybe the darkness would throw him off just long enough for you to find a weapon— _any_ weapon! You shuffled through a medical cabinet, finding only a few hypodermic needles and gauze pads. Neither seemed that helpful, and you searched through a drawer to find a scalpel. Apparently, the tiny surgical tool was now going to be your best bet. You ran to Kylo's side and began to roll the bed to the opposing wall to keep him as far away as possible from the door. Then you took your chair and propped it on top of the desk.

Stratoveer was on the other side of the door by this point, armed with a vibroblade of knife length that was no doubt military issue. The door lock clicked as he broke through the mechanism with the Force, and he began to slam the door forward against the desk, knocking it back further with each slam.

Kylo held out his hand, trying to use the Force against the door, but he was pitiful. His hand drooped and then fell toward the floor as he lost consciousness once again. The Force was so useless as Stratoveer shoved the desk back enough so that he could slide over the desk and into the room. The furniture had never been much of a deterrence, and now he had essentially trapped you.

He flicked on one of the lights to the room, letting it illuminate you as he stayed back in shadow. You held up the scalpel in front of you, gripping it with white knuckles as though it was the most powerful weapon in the world.

“Don't come a single step closer,” you hissed.

Stratoveer laughed. Such a cold, menacing sound as he took a few steps closer to you. He was like a cat that had found a mouse to toy with until finally killing it. “Or what? You'll take a slice at me?”

You held onto that scalpel with every bit of your strength, shoving it forward as though you could stab his heart out.

“I'll let you in on a secret,” Stratoveer mused, taking yet another step forward with the vibroknife in hand. “Both you and Ren are going to die in this room in a matter of minutes, and the most interesting thing is that  _no one will care_ . Yes, you heard me. Not a soul. Ren has never been well liked. You may very well be the first in his pathetic life to find something redeemable about the bastard, but no one else will bat an eye at finding him dead. Not even Snoke.”

“That's not true,” you spat, taking a step back as Stratoveer moved ever forward.

“Oh, really?” Stratoveer took another step forward and glanced over at Kylo Ren, who was still unconscious in the medical bed. “I see a man who will be forgotten.”

He was so incredibly close to you by this point—close enough to touch. And that look in his dark eyes was of pure greed, envy. It was the need for destruction and chaos as he ruled with an iron fist. There was no better time to strike than now when he was distracted by Kylo's near lifeless form.

Like a viper striking its prey, you aimed for Stratoveer's face and slashed with the scalpel. You could feel the blade cut through flesh and muscle before hitting against his cheekbone, and he howled in shock. The scalpel blade lodged into bone and was ripped from your hand, and Stratoveer took his own blind strike out of pure instinctive retaliation. The vibroknife dashed forward, striking your left forearm to leave a long, jagged gash.

Both you and Stratoveer had backed up from one another, both screaming out in pain and anger. Stratoveer ripped the scalpel from his cheek and threw it across the floor. Blood had begun to pour from his face, and he rolled over the desk and out of the door, running down the hall.

But you couldn't pay attention to him leaving. All that you could understand in that moment was the burning pain that had flooded through your left arm and that it was bleeding far worse than Stratoveer's pathetic head wound. The nausea was already taking over as you looked down at the deep gash. You didn't have time for this fucking nausea and fear! Rushing to the other side of the room, you tore through a medical cabinet until you found a roll of gauze to quickly wrap around your arm. It wasn't a permanent fix, and you would need stitches, but if it kept you from bleeding to death, then that was all that mattered at this point.

You could hardly feel your left hand, and it was white from how tightly you had bound the wound. Completely fucking useless. But would you even  _need_ to use that hand? Stratoveer was gone. Had he run away for good to go hide with his new facial scar? Hopefully.

Turning to Kylo, you fell to your knees and buried your head into his chest, just hoping for a moment of relief. Tears had started to gather in your eyes from the pain in your arm, from the fear, from the anxiety. And you felt Kylo stir beneath you.

_“You're hurt.”_

You sniffled. “I know. But so is he.”

Kylo's eyes fluttered open, and his eyebrows pulled together.  _“Not hurt enough._ ”

His voice in your head was urgent, terrified.

“What do you mean?”

_“He's coming back!”_

Your head snapped toward the doorway, and that's when you could hear it. You could hear the footsteps running down the hall.  _Shit!_ Shouldn't stabbing someone in the face be enough to keep them away?

You could hear Kylo screaming in your head to run, to hide. Just to get away in any capacity that you could, but it was no use. Stratoveer's silhouette was already at the doorway, and your heart just about leapt through your throat in terror.

Standing on the other side of the desk against the door was Stratoveer, holding onto another military issue vibroblade that he had no doubt plucked from a nearby arsenal cabinet. It was three times the length of his other blade, which was gripped securely in his other hand. And here you were beside Kylo, no knives, no scalpel, not even that hypodermic needle from the cabinet to help you.

That's when the thought truly struck you.  _“I'm going to die.”_

_“No. You aren't.”_

Your eyes flashed from Stratoveer to Kylo, and watched as Kylo gave a little nod of his head toward his belt. You followed his gaze, and your eyes lingered on his lightsaber. Was  _that_ his answer to this situation? You weren't even sure how to turn on the damned thing, much less wield it to protect both of you!

_“Use. It.”_ His voice came out as a demand.

Fumbling with one hand at the saber's hilt, you managed to free it from Kylo's belt. The metal was cold against your fingers and surprisingly heavy. What a crude weapon he had built for himself, but at this moment, it seemed like your only hope.

You held the saber in front of you, much to the surprise of Stratoveer who had climbed over the desk and was ready to slaughter you.

“You're not going to use that,” he spat, no longer interested in toying with you. The blood from his cheek now covered half of his face and had rolled down his neck and into his uniform. “Put that piece of shit away.”

But you held onto the lightsaber firmly with your right hand. How you wished that you could hold it with both hands, but your left arm was nearly numb from the elbow down.

“Get the fuck away from us, or I'll kill you myself,” you threatened, voice slightly cracking.

Stratoveer only responded by activating the vibroblade in his hand, letting it vibrate as the internal engine began to run. Just a press of a button, and it had become far more deadly than before. He took another step forward, and brought the tip of the blade before Kylo's lightsaber, letting the blade vibrate against the durasteel of the hilt.

“You don't know what in the hell you're doing, girl.”

You knocked the blade away, and finding the power activator to the saber, turned it on with a flash of red light. The lightsaber roared to life, glowing and sparking into the dim room. It didn't matter if you knew what you were doing or not by this point—you had to do  _something_ .

Stratoveer struck against the saber with his blade, sending you a step back as you tried to keep a tight grip on the hilt. And then he was striking again. And again. Sending you a foot back each time. He was quickly backing you into a wall as you tried desperately to control the saber. How Kylo managed to wield such an unruly thing was beyond you. It was so incredibly difficult to hold onto it, to make it move how you wanted. And you only had so much more space before your back would be against the wall.

With a particularly hard hit from the vibroblade, the lightsaber fell from your hand, clattering to the floor as it turned off. Your hand leapt to the ground to pick it up, but not in time before Stratoveer had kicked you hard against the chest, sending you flying back a few feet until you collided with the edge of a metal medical cabinet.

_CRACK._

A blast of pain flooded through your right arm upon impact with the edge of the cabinet, and you heard a sickening crack and snap. Your breath caught in your chest, a scream lodged in your throat that would never meet your lips. White flashes came across your vision, and the nausea that had been present from injuring your  _other_ arm had now doubled. How could something hurt this bad? How could you have gotten into this mess in the first place?

Your legs were tangled beneath you, right arm drenched in pain and left arm so numb that it was difficult to move your fingers. Glancing up, you could see Stratoveer standing above you, the vibroblade in hand and pointed toward your face.

He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. A smile was curving along his lips. “You were never my first priority to kill, but that doesn't make this feel any less satisfying.”

You looked back down at the floor to see the hilt of the lightsaber only a few inches away, and with numb fingers, you picked it up in your left hand. It felt so strangely weightless, as though it didn't truly exist but was a ghost against your skin.

“What do you think you'll do with that?” he mocked. His blade came at your chin, lifting your head toward him as it cut through the skin. “It's over.”

And so it was.

In that moment, your thumb felt the power activator, and the lightsaber had once again roared into life. Moving your entire arm from the shoulder where you still had at least  _some_ feeling, you brought the lightsaber swinging in front of you with the edge of the blade cutting through the air to slice cleanly through both of Stratoveer's boots.

Everything was still for a few seconds.

You still had the lightsaber in front of you, sparking and snapping, and Stratoveer was still standing, but the vibroblade dropped from his hand to clatter on the ground in gentle vibrations as it scooted its way across the floor. He trembled, looking down at you with wide eyes and mouth slightly ajar. Then he was looking at his legs, and with the smallest of movements, he tried to step forward. But his legs only stopped moving at his calves, and the lower half of his leg—shins, ankles, feet all inside of his dark boots—fell over, completely unattached to his body.

He fell forward onto the stubs of his knees, slightly swaying out of balance as he still stared at you in total disbelief.

“W... What have you--”

The words were cut short from his lips, because with another feeling-less swing, you had brought the lightsaber to his neck with the dull side of the blade, leaving a deep, cauterised gash all the way to his spine. He swayed again, and the shocked look in his eyes disappeared, being replaced by a blank stare that would haunt you for years. All at once, he fell to his side with a roll until his face was flat on the floor and arms trapped beneath him. The other half of his legs were still beside him—one boot and leg knocked over and the other still standing, ready and at attention for the rest of its body to catch up.

And just that quickly, Captain Ardeus Stratoveer lied dead on the floor, moving and seeing no more.

* * *

**A/N:** A little bit of a cliff hanger again, but I hope that you all enjoyed Stratoveer's death.


	22. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivors of Captain Stratoveer's attack are taken to the Starkiller Base's main medical ward to get patched up.

**Playlists:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVTROiMZCXE&index=1&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhaajPcYo9JZN910ZtayMZAw), [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/aislinginouterspace/starkiller-science)

* * *

 

How long did it take for a dead man to go cold?

You fought the urge to reach down and touch Stratoveer's hand that had gone completely white with veins of blue. It was pinned beneath him with just the fingers showing, and you couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He was dead. Truly, irreversibly  _dead_ . It wasn't the same as when SC-4341 had died just a few steps away in the bed where Kylo Ren now rested. It wasn't the same as finding a dead pet or walking up to a funeral wake. This was something all too different, all too powerful and terrifying, because  _you_ had done this. A man was dead on the ground, his legs separated from his body beneath the knees and half his neck cut through with a lightsaber, and you were responsible.

Kylo's lightsaber was still on beside you, just resting on the floor and snapping like fire as it burnt a black stain into the metal tiles beneath it. You didn't want to turn it off. Not yet. And even if you had—even if you had the courage to shut off the power activator or touch Stratoveer's dead corpse to see just how un-alive he was—your arms were useless. The left arm was completely numb and dripping blood onto the floor, onto your trousers, onto damn near everything. The gauze held the wound mostly shut so that it wouldn't kill you, but that didn't mean that you hadn't lost a decent amount of blood—enough that you knew your lips were most likely blue and face pale.

And then there was your right arm, full of stabbing pains with every beat of your heart. There was no doubt that it was broken right below the elbow. The skin was bright red, and inflammation had increased your arm to twice its normal size. Moving even your fingers was excruciating. There was no way to pull yourself from the ground, no way to move over to Kylo and check on him since he had been unconscious for a while.

So you sat there in the dark and silence. Tears were running down your cheeks from pain, from horror that you had just killed a man, from... you didn't even know. There were so many things running through your head at the moment. All that you wanted to concentrate on was the crackling of the saber beside you and its glowing red light. Everything else was just too much.

You could hear the faintest of sounds from outside of the medical ward. Footsteps. Talking. Then shouts and yells. Captain Phasma's voice had become the loudest as she let out a pained roar of rage, and you could hear General Hux trying to calm her down. More tears ran down your face. You didn't know what they had found in the emergency area of the medical ward, but you knew that it wasn't anything good. They had most likely found the bodies that Stratoveer had so cruelly murdered in his attempts to end the life of Kylo Ren.

Kylo had been so right... Anyone who had stood in the captain's way was dead or injured.

More footsteps echoed down the hall, and Hux crashed into the door, jumping over the desk that was still slightly in front of the doorway. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark and only caught sight of Kylo Ren's glowing lightsaber. He took a hesitant step forward, reaching for a light to fully illuminate the room. As the lights flicked on, he gave a small gasp, his eyes on Captain Stratoveer's lifeless body. Then his blue eyes hovered on Kylo and, last, on you with the lightsaber beside you.

He took a few steps forward and knelt before you. There was nothing that he could say at the moment, but his mouth was slightly ajar as though he was trying to gather all of his thoughts together. He took one look at your left arm that was bleeding out a puddle, and he seemed to make up his mind.

“We're taking all survivors to the Starkiller Base. Can you walk?”

You nodded your head. “I need help standing, though.”

He glanced at your right arm and cringed. As gently as possible, Hux lifted you with one hand beneath each of your arms, and you grimaced as you came to a stand. Your entire world seemed to fade in and out for a moment as the blood rushed to meet your brain. Hux kept an arm at your shoulders as he yelled over to Kylo Ren to wake him.

“Hey, you aren't dead, are you?” he called. What an arse.

Kylo huffed out a heavy sigh and scrunched his eyes closed.

“There's a fucking monitor attached to me for a reason, Hux,” he groaned. It was the most he had spoken in nearly two hours.

Hux rolled his eyes and started to walk you out of the room. “At least  _someone_ 's feeling better. I can't say the same for everyone else.”

“Fuck off.” Kylo weakly pushed himself up so that he was sitting on the bed and leaning against the wall, his head back and mouth gasping for air from even the tiniest of exertion. “This's... your... damn fault... for leaving...”

Hux had already lead you out of the room but called back to Kylo Ren, “Don't move any more. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

You could hear Kylo cursing weakly into his oxygen mask as you stared down the medical ward's hallway in front of you. The bodies of two aides were still on the floor, both face down. Hux completely ignored both of them as you walked.

“How many people...”  _are dead?_

Hux seemed to understand without you having to finish. “Four aides. Two Storm Troopers.” The general was gritting his teeth, staring straight forward. “Another aide will most likely die any minute now. Amena...” He paused, finally looking at you as he swallowed heavily. “I don't know. Talia and Phasma are with her. Talia had the sense to hide under a desk, thank the stars.” For a moment, Hux seemed to relax in the relief of Talia being unharmed, but his face dropped back into a grimace the moment that you both entered the emergency area of the ward.

Where Kylo had been on the metal table just an hour before, Amena now lied. Two blaster burns had hit her—one in the thigh and another at her hip. Talia was running about as fast as she could to connect oxygen, administer morphine, just do  _anything_ to stabilise Amena enough so that she could be lifted by a few Storm Troopers who had a stretcher ready. All the while, Phasma was standing beside the table with the most twisted, pained expression on her pale face. Tears had welled in her eyes as she gripped onto Amena's hand, silently mouthing words through a clenched jaw.

Hux was barking out directions to a few more Storm Troopers who had arrived, commanding three to help Kylo and another to escort you to the hanger where a ship was waiting to transport everyone to the Starkiller Base below where a larger medical facility would be able to care for everyone.

There was no time to ask how Amena was doing with the Trooper now at your side, his arm behind your back to guide you down the hall. 

“This way, ma'am.”

You recognised his voice and searched for the familiar scratch on the Trooper's armour, just below his hidden right collarbone.

“You seem to show up whenever I've gotten myself in trouble,” you mumbled. The Trooper slightly stumbled over his feet but then kept walking, now with a little more urgency.

He hesitated in speech, not knowing how friendly he was allowed to be. “I guess I'm your guardian angel.”

You shrugged and immediately let out a hiss as you aggravated the break in your right arm. That had been a dumb move. He handed you an ice bag from the med ward to hold on your right arm though quickly realised that there was no way for you to actually pick it up. So the Trooper dashed back for a moment and returned with a sling and gauze to wrap the ice bag flush against your arm that was now held securely. You weren't sure if the ice was actually helping to alleviate any of the pain, but it certainly was a kind gesture.

“What's your name, by the way?”

“FN-2187.”

You sighed. It was just about impossible to tell which Trooper was which with their random string of numbers and letters for a name. Why had you even bothered to ask? “I'll never remember that, but thanks.”

Not much time passed between you getting aboard the ship and Kylo following behind. He was leaning on two Storm Troopers with an arm over each of their shoulders. His helmet was in place, hiding the anguish that no doubt painted his face with every step. There was no way that he should be walking—especially not without the oxygen and iv drip—but he could be a stubborn fool.

“What are you doing?” you hissed as Kylo dropped into a seat and tossed his helmet to the ground. He gasped for air, and a Trooper rushed over the oxygen mask, strapping it behind his ears and messy hair. His arm and its now detached iv ports had been hidden beneath his hooded cloak, but he threw it aside to reveal the raw marks where he had no doubt pulled the ivs. You wanted to reach out and shake some sense into him.

_“If you had thousands of troops to lead, you would do the same.”_

You sighed, annoyed and still in too much pain to actually argue with his stupid man tendencies. Besides, the entire ship was suddenly jumping into a frenzy as Amena was lifted inside by several Troopers. Talia was still with her and pressing down on the blaster wound on Amena's hip that had started to bleed through the cauterisation, and a Trooper was helping to carry an oxygen tank that was connected to a face mask. It was difficult to see how Amena was actually doing with having a cervical collar holding her neck in place and spinal precautions as she was strapped to the stretcher. And it didn't help that Talia really didn't know what in the hell she was doing—something she repeatedly admitted. Like you, she wasn't  _this_ kind of doctor.

“It should've been me,” Talia whispered after the ship had taken off. What a blessing that the Starkiller Base was so close; it would only take fifteen minutes before they would land.

Hux had followed everyone on board and was pacing in his foul mood with a grimace like acid. “Don't say that! How could you... how could you  _ever_ say--” Suddenly he was on the other side of Amena, leaning over to be directly in Talia's face. He was livid that she would ever actively want to be in harm's way.

“I should've intubated her, Hux, and I don't fucking know how to do it properly, and if she dies on the way to the base, it's entirely my fault for being a shitty doctor,” Talia retaliated. “And Phasma'll never forgive me.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Kylo interjected, but Hux sent a scowl in his direction unlike anything you had seen from him yet.

“Stay out of this, Ren,” he hissed.

“By all means, then, argue with one another over a dying woman's body.”

Hux let out a growl and balled his fists together, wanting nothing more than to lay hands onto Kylo Ren's neck or punch his fist into the bastard's face until it was unrecognisable. But instead, he held onto Talia's shoulders as she began to sob.

Hux tried repeatedly to ease Talia's self-loathing, but it was of little use; she was as pig-headed as he was. Hell, all of you aboard were just about equally as stubborn, which only meant trouble. Only that FN-whatever Trooper was staying calm as he sat by himself at the back of the ship.

“I don't want to listen to them,” you whispered to Kylo whilst sitting next to him. He put an arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your left side against him. Your arm wasn't bleeding as much now, but you could feel absolutely nothing. He held onto you, and you closed your eyes, trying to process through the past few hours of your life.

_Kylo poisoned. Stratoveer's attack and subsequent death. Aides killed. Arm broken. Amena critically injured._

It was all too much for you to deal with right now. You tried to squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the noise of the ship as it passed through the void of space and into the Starkiller Base's snowy atmosphere. You tried to concentrate on Kylo's breathing as you rested your head against his chest, noting that he was no longer gasping and seemed to be feeling slightly better with each passing minute. You even let the pain of your broken arm breach your consciousness as though that would block out Talia weeping and Hux not knowing how to properly comfort her.

Somehow in the sensory overload, your mind decided to call it quits for a while, and you fell asleep against Kylo Ren. The world around you was gone, and you were thankful. It had been too much. Too much.  _Too much._

When you awoke, the ship was gone. The dark durasteel interior had been replaced with the sterile white walls of a large sick bay. You blinked up at the ceiling, taking in the white tiles and curtain rods that no doubt separated you from the other patients. A monitor beeped quietly in the background, and you drowsily looked down to see your right arm in a temporary brace. A bone-knitter device was sitting on a small table nearby along with an open box of medical gloves. Your attention turned to your other arm after a moment to see that it was wrapped in fresh gauze and, amazingly, had feeling again. Wiggling your fingers and giving a twist of your wrist hurt far more than it should have, but the stretch of bruised skin told you that there were a line of stitches beneath the gauze.

It was as you were twisting your left wrist that you noticed the bed next to you and Kylo Ren sleeping there. He no longer wore his coat nor padded armour with its cut off sleeve but was in a loose grey shirt and his black trousers. His boots had been kicked off and thrown lazily under the bed. The full oxygen mask that he had last worn was gone, replaced by a simple nasal cannula. Without the mask, it was easier to see the black and blue staining around his lips and nose from the silver nitrate poisoning, and you wondered if he was even aware of the discolouration.

You searched through the Force, trying to find what he could feel even though he was sleeping. The second that you tried, though, he began to stir and blinked heavily hooded eyes a few times before he gave a tiny smile in your direction. Kylo slowly sat up, giving his shoulders a roll and cracking his neck.

“About time that you woke up,” he mentioned, voice low and husky with sleep. “I took a nap while waiting for you.”

Your mind felt heavy, still slightly confused from having slept for so long. “How long have I been here?”

Kylo glanced at a clock on the opposing wall; it was nearly seven in the morning. “Nine hours.” He motioned toward an x-ray view box beside the clock that was off but had a few x-rays tucked in place. “Enough time that the doctor already took x-rays and mended your arm after giving you stitches. You got a lot more than seven this time.”

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and set his bare feet on the floor. For a moment, Kylo looked unsure about moving. His dark eyes glanced over at the empty doorway, checking to see if he was being watched by any nurses. And then he plucked the cannula from his nose and flicked a switch to its off position on the oxygen tank beside the bed.

“Did the doctor say you could do that?” you confronted.

Kylo shrugged. “I feel fine.”

You rolled your eyes. Even without the Force Bond in place, you could tell that he was still in some pain. But the oxygen probably wasn't necessary any longer.

Kylo stood up and slowly made his way to your bed until he was kneeling beside you with his elbows propped on the mattress. His fingers glided over the gauze that hid away most likely a couple dozen stitches. It was the lightest, gentlest of touches—so light that you questioned whether you were really feeling him or not.

“This didn't turned out how I had planned,” Kylo mentioned.

“Does anything?”

“I don't know,” he sighed. “At least you're alive. Amena is, too, somehow.”

That was finally some good news after all of the awful things that had happened since the evening before.

“I'm sorry...” he said after a little while. His fingers were now up at your face, thumb moving in tiny circles on your cheek. For what exactly he was sorry, he hadn't quite decided, but he felt it all the while. Maybe Kylo Ren was sorry that you had gone through so much pain. Maybe he was sorry that you had been involved in this mess in the first place. Maybe he was sorry for himself. An unfamiliar sympathy was flowing through his veins where poison had tried to dominate.

“You told me that my life was in danger from the first step I took onto the satellite,” you replied, recalling his words from so many weeks before. “I think that I'm accepting this as being the new norm for my life.” It wasn't a normalcy that you had ever wanted—this constant danger—but if it was the trade-off for having Kylo Ren by your side, then so be it.

He stretched forward, giving you a kiss on your forehead and then onto the tip of your nose and finally to your lips. “You shouldn't have to accept the shit that comes with my life.”

“But I have. That's what we do...”  _when we love somebody_ .

You knew that he had heard the words that had floated through your mind without ever reaching your lips. The way that he froze in place told you everything that you needed to know.

“...What?” His voice came out as a strangled whisper. Every muscle in his body had tensed as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what you had nearly told him.

The stitches in your left arm pulled achingly as you reached up to his hand that was still on your cheek. “I love you, Kylo. Is it not obvious?”

He swallowed hard, and the taut muscles of his arms were trembling.

“No one...” he began, his voice giving a slight crack, “has said that to me in a very long time.”

Kylo slowly climbed onto the mattress with the greatest of caution and rested beside you on his side. His arm reached around to hold the right side of your face and gently brush away some of your hair. Tears had begun to pool in his eyes, causing his dark irises to shimmer like glass. His lips were on your forehead, and he pulled you closer so that he could put his face into your hair—so he could breathe in the warm smell of you and remember that you were completely real. His throat had begun to hurt again, but it wasn't the silver nitrate any more. It was the constricting feeling that came before sobs and outrage. He was afraid to speak. If even a word was uttered, his throat would collapse in on itself, and the tears he was trying to hold back would flood forth like rivers.

_I love you, too._

Kylo tried to put every ounce of feeling into those words as he pushed them through the Force Bond. They repeated, over and over again as he held you tighter.  _I love you. I love you._ It was a mantra that grew more desperate, and you noticed hot tears press into your hair as he took in a strangled breath.

_I love you._

* * *

 

**Glossary:**

_Tracheal Intubation:_ In some emergency situations, a tube is inserted down the trachea to aid in breathing. Talia was not properly trained to provide such sensitive aide to Amena and had to instead use an oxygen mask and hope for the best.

_Cervical Collar (or c-collar)_ : holds the head steady and supports the neck during trauma; it is a form of spinal precaution. When someone is injured, emergency crews just always assume that the spine has been injured. You know, just in case. We do the same in the gero world when our patients have falls.

_Nasal Cannula_ : A small, clear, plastic tube that wraps around the ears and over the face so that it can deliver oxygen directly into he nose. It is generally unobtrussive and is what you probably see the most on tv.

* * *

 

**A/N:** So, this chapter got changed around sooooo many times. Originally it was going to be part of the last chapter, but that made it way too long. Then it was going to include the introduction of some new doctors on the Starkiller Base, and even Deirdre was going to show back up. But then it took a totally different turn and just became a fluff power-hour. Anyway, special thanks to my friend and go-to nurse  [ Rebecca ](http://robocco-como-to-mo.tumblr.com/) for helping me make this chapter a bit more medically accurate (and for reminding me that I am trash every time we get together). Also, I made the mistake of looking at pictures of broken arms on google, and just OH GOD. OH GOD WHY DID I DO THIS? OH MAN. The things I do for you all. Blessed be the Star Wars universe, where  [ bone-knitters ](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Bone-knitter) exist to quickly mend broken bones and HIPPA laws don't impede on plot devises.


	23. Balancing Acts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is forced to face an internal conflict of Light and Dark as Snoke's presence lurks ever in the shadows. You hang in the balance, fighting your own struggle between the pulls of the Force and your original research mission for the First Order.

**Playlists:** [ Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaVA6sgOpws&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZvVRy-KTp2v9hs6I3R8QA2)

* * *

 

“No doubt that you already know, but Stratoveer is dead.”

Supreme Leader Snoke was leaning back into his chair, eyes closed and fingers pressed together in front of him as he grimaced. At his feet stood Hux, arms crossed over his chest and eyes drilling holes into the floor rather than making contact with the hologram before him.

“Yes, I felt his departure,” Snoke replied after a while. “Was Ren responsible?”

Hux rolled his shoulders, feeling the stress taking hold of him. He chanced a peek at Snoke, who still sat with eyes shut in contemplation. Or fury. It was hard to tell what the Supreme Leader was feeling behind all of those scars.

“No,” he finally answered. “It was the woman. Stratoveer attempted to take Ren's life, and she retaliated.”

Hux could have sworn in that moment that he saw Snoke smile—just the tiniest of movements before his face fell back into its deep, terrifying calm. So far, Snoke knew little of what had happened—not of the poison nor the numbers killed by Stratoveer. But he would learn soon enough; he always did.

“The  _woman_ did this? The one who is yet untrained?” Snoke began to chuckle. It was an icy, threatening sound that seemed to chill Hux's insides straight down to the bone. Few things frightened him as much as when Snoke was cruelly pleased with the news delivered to him. The general could feel his knees give a tremble, telling him to back up and run.  _Flee!_ Every muscle was screaming, his blood pounding in his ears, but he stayed.

“Well...” Snoke hummed with his laugh still echoing around the walls of the room. “Perhaps there is new potential on the horizon. And Kylo Ren... is he still interested in her? Still as possessive?”

Hux nodded. “More so. I still worry that he has fallen for her... Fallen...”  _in love._ But did he want to tell Snoke that? Was it his place? Fuck, did it even matter if it was his place to tell him or not? It wasn't as though he hadn't sold people out before.

Snoke had closed his eyes once again and was chewing on the corner of his cheek as he waited to speak. It wasn't as though he needed the extra time to think through what to say, but the silence was intoxicating. He could hear Hux's frantic heartbeat from so terribly far away, feel the fear on him. What a beautiful feeling.

“I have seen into Ren's mind, and I know of what he is capable. Love is not there. And should the emotion try to arise, he will break himself of it soon enough, otherwise the Dark side of the Force will not be his to control. He knows as much and will do what it takes to rid himself of anything that stands in his way.”

“You are certain?”

Snoke's eyes snapped open, and he quickly leaned forward, studying Hux with a round, lidless eye. “I am  _always_ certain.”

Hux lost all composure within seconds and was backing up on shaking feet until he tripped over his own boots and landed on his bottom to the floor with arms leaning back behind him. Snoke laughed again as he stood up, and the hologram faded away into the dark so that only the cold echoes remained.

* * *

Tears.

Soaking through your hair and cold against your scalp were the remnants of Kylo Ren's tears as he held you to his body. You could feel the warmth of his skin through his thin grey shirt, feel his pulse beneath your fingertips as you rested your left hand on his chest. He had hardly moved in an hour. Anyone passing by would have thought that you were both asleep, but Kylo's mind was running faster than ever. His  _“I love you”'_ s were still floating around as he struggled to say anything else, but the rest of the Force Bond was closed off to you. Whatever else was floating around Kylo Ren's head must have been too painful, too secret to share. Though you wished that you could see each detail, it also wasn't your place. He deserved some privacy just as you did. So you snuggled closer to him to enjoy the warmth and the soft sounds of the sick bay around you.

Kylo Ren blinked back a few more tears. His face felt stiff with salt that had dried upon his cheeks, and he was ashamed. Ashamed of all the secrets that he had hidden... was  _still_ hiding. Ashamed of how this beautiful woman in his arms was most likely going to die if kept around him for long enough. Ashamed of the fact that he must train this same woman whom he loved in the Dark side of the Force, which would one day destroy you from the inside out. He looked out at a future, of seeing you fall away from the Light and be replaced by a monster whom he could no longer recognise. And he felt himself falling to his knees within a memory that had not even yet occurred—completely broken and wishing to rip himself apart in the fury that enveloped him.

He hated that there was so much Light within you, reflecting like moonlight to illuminate him. So many times, he had sought to destroy the Light, whether that be out in the galaxy or within himself. And even the thought of the Light side of the Force being present in him was too much to bare. He had tried so hard.  _So. Incredibly. Hard._ To destroy anything but the Darkness. Why did he have to feel this way? Why did you have to come in at precisely the time when he had been most sure that he was finally on the right path—finally on his way to controlling the Dark side of the Force as he was meant to do?  _Why?_ Snoke had promised him that the Light would leave, that he could fight it. And yet, as he held you firmly against him and could feel you breathe, feel every little twitch of every muscle, he knew that Snoke was wrong. He couldn't fight it.

He  _had_ to fight it.

So much loathing filled him in that moment. Two different allegiances were pulling at him, pulling until ready to shred through his flesh and tissue, ready to snap him in half if he wasn't willing to completely abandon a side.

He remembered what you had told him when he had carried you down the darkened halls of the base after you had exhausted yourself with panic.  _Grey_ . You had told him that he was another being all together. Neither Light nor Dark, but indeed Grey.

How little you truly knew of what you had said. How very, very little.

A face broke through Kylo Ren's memory. Not your face, which glowed like the stars, nor the hideously disfigured face of Snoke, but one of a man. His light brown hair had begun to grey, growing wiry about his ears, and the grey was even more noticeable within his beard. He was stern but not unkind as he sat upon the ground and stared off into the distance with bright blue eyes. Jedi robes covered him as well as a lightsaber that was attached to his belt.

The man's thoughts were elsewhere for a while, and then he spoke. His voice came out slightly higher than one would imagine and was always enthusiastic, pausing for dramatic effect on certain words, speaking a little too quickly on others. Though he was serious, his tone seemed to convey his every single emotion.  _Expressive_ was the word that Kylo's mother had once called the man.  _Honest_ was another. But Kylo Ren had trouble seeing that. All he could see was the disappointment that simultaneously leaked through as the Jedi spoke directly to him.

Kylo could still recall the memory as though it had happened the day before. The smell of fresh earth was in his nose and grass beneath his hands that his fingers plucked at, pulling blade after blade free so that it could float through the breeze and land on the Jedi sitting in front of him. The Jedi brushed the grass from his robes, frowning.

“Ben... You aren't listening.”

_Ben_ ... Kylo Ren still cringed at the name, even when hearing it in a memory.

“I've already heard about the Dark sides of the Force,” Ben answered, voice halfway between child and adult and cracking minutely.

The Jedi sighed. “If you had been listening, then you would have heard me mention that there is more than just the Light and Dark—that the possibility remains of  _Grey_ Jedi.”

Ben raised a dark eyebrow. “What do you mean by  _Grey_ ?”

“At times, a Jedi may be pulled toward both the Light and the Dark sides of the Force at the same time. Or possibly neither. They may disregard the Jedi Code but not seek the Darkness, and they may find themselves as neutral parties between the Jedi and Sith. Some say that there are infinite paths between the Light and Dark, each leading to a completely different way to control the Force. These users who eschew the paths that we have set for them can take a fully new journey and become Grey Jedi or simply Grey.

“There are those who are never drawn fully to the Light,” he continued. “And some who can never fully embrace the Dark. But they do not have to wander through life in blindness.”

Ben's palms had started to sweat, and he stopped pulling at the blades of grass that were prickling his legs through the thin linen of his trousers and robe. A heat was rising into his face as though he had instantly sunburned. “Why are you telling me this?”

The Jedi leaned forward, suddenly appearing far more serious than he had during his lecture. “Because it's something that you need to be aware of, Ben. It's an option that exists, and you must not forget it.”

It was an option so very much like what you had offered.

The Jedi met Ben's eyes and sighed. At least now his pupil was listening, though the reason for doing so worried him. Ben had gone back to picking at blades of grass and crushing them between his fingers with an urgency that hadn't been there before. Kylo could feel the sticky grass getting wedged beneath his fingernails. He hadn't known then what he was being told. Not for a moment did Ben think that the Jedi  _knew_ of his struggles between the Light and Dark. But the Jedi had known from the second he first laid eyes on young Ben. He had known that this boy would be caught in a game he didn't understand and used as a pawn between forces far greater than himself.

The advice of the Jedi sat in his subconscious, being drawn out like venom when recalling your words. Kylo Ren wanted to spit out the entire concept--remove any inkling of Grey Jedi from himself.

_I don't have any options._

Kylo stirred, adjusting you in his arms so that he could rest his chin on the top of your head. His eyes were unseeing in this world, trapped in memories--all black irises and furrowed brow versus the blue eyes of the past that stared out into the sky and ocean. They were the eyes of a man, a Jedi, a master.

“Luke...”

You could hear the tiniest of whispers escape Kylo's lips, feel his jaw clench against your scalp.

“Who is Luke?” you asked. The name seemed familiar, and it took you a moment to place that it was the name that Stratoveer had tried to say before Kylo had thrown him to the ground. “Was he the one who taught you?”

The way that every muscle in Kylo's body had stiffened told you that this was a path he did not want to take you down. You began to regret that you had asked as he lied there in silence, slowly seething, so it seemed miraculous when he answered.

“Yes,” he replied through gritted teeth. “He was my master. No longer, though. My only master is Snoke.”

“And could you be master of yourself?”

He flinched at this, pulling you back slightly so that you could see eye to eye. Apparently, such an idea was shocking. “You say too many things without enough knowledge.”

You frowned, and Kylo untangled his hands from your hair and pulled away completely so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you and head in his hands. With caution, you sat up behind him, your hand lowering to his back, but he flinched away again.

“Kylo...” His name was always at your lips in the same exasperated way.

“I have a master,” he hissed. “And I serve the darkest side of the Force.  _That_ you have to accept.”

Well, at least he wasn't keeping who he served a secret, but you had already learned as much. “Sorry that I asked,” you replied bitterly. “But someone as strong as yourself could be a master in his own right; that's all I meant by it.”

Kylo slowly twisted his head over his shoulder, glaring at you from beneath messy, black hair. “And as Snoke will see it, I'll soon be  _your_ master.” He struggled to take in a deep breath as he gripped his hair between his fingers. You gently lifted his hand, expecting him to pull away once again, but he allowed you to hold his hand and brush the hair from his forehead.

You crawled beside him, awkwardly avoiding using your braced right arm in the process. Kylo put his arms around your waist and lifted you so that you could sit on his lap and lean your right side against him. Your head tucked into his neck like pieces of a puzzle.

“There are worse fates,” you whispered. “Just don't abandon me for another student.”

“Stratoveer was my trial student; I'll be a better master to you. A better master than anyone has been.”

“Better than Snoke? Or Luke?”

He cringed as you spoke Luke's name but nodded. “Especially better than Luke.”

You wanted to ask what this mysterious master Luke had done to rile Kylo Ren up, to cause so much anger and... You felt through the Bond, trying to place exactly what Kylo was feeling. Regret. Abandonment. Hurt. Longing. All of them combined into some new emotion that you didn't even have a word for.

Your lips were partially opened and ready to push him just a little further—find out just another piece of his history to explain who he was today. But the curtain of the medical room slid open at that moment, a tall, lean man in a lab coat entering with a datapad in hand. He was young with skin as black as night and hair cropped short on the sides. He hummed to himself whilst tapping the datapad with his finger, not seeming to notice the intimate moment that he had just walked into.

He shoved the datapad into a large pocket of his doctor's coat and gave you a smile as you slid off of Kylo Ren's lap. The doctor turned on the x-ray viewer on the opposing wall so that it illuminated the x-rays of your arm, and he slid a pair of fresh gloves onto his hands.

“A clean snap through the ulna and radius,” he mused, peering at the x-ray. The two bones of your forearm had snapped directly in the middle in such a way to look like a singular crack. “Clean enough to not need surgery, lucky you.”

The doctor sat in a rolling chair and rolled his way over to you. He took a small glance at Kylo Ren, eyes focussing on the missing oxygen that should have been at his nose. “I see that Lord Ren has checked himself out of my care early?”

Kylo groaned. “I'm fine. Focus on her.”

The doctor shrugged without really caring and turned back to you. He gently unwrapped the brace from your right arm to reveal swollen, bright red skin. “I'm Doctor Petyr Hermeyer, by the way. You weren't awake when I temporarily set your arm.”

Petyr plucked the bone-knitter device from the nearby table and turned it on, letting the small device glide over your skin at a snail's pace. “This will activate the healing of the bone marrow, but you'll still need to be careful as your body does the rest of the work. I'll have you fitted for a custom brace to wear for the next two weeks. Just as a precaution, you know? Make sure you don't rebreak it.”

The bone-knitter was blinking as it passed over the crack in both bones of your forearm, and you could feel a hot, almost burning, sensation where the bones were mending. You bit at your lip from the pain, and Kylo's fingers slipped into your left hand, giving a squeeze. You dug your fingernails into his palm, trying not to squirm as the bone-knitter continued its course.

“Almost done,” Petyr said, more to himself than to you. The burning had turned into an itch within your very bones that sent snaps of pain up the nerves of your arm, into your shoulder, and up through your spine. And right as you thought that your nails would draw blood against Kylo's hand, it stopped. A dull ache now replaced the hot stabs of pain, and Petyr set the bone-knitter on the table again.

“All patched up.” He rolled back to the wall and hit a button on the communication unit that was beside the x-ray viewer. “Lethe, you want to send Dr. Minoross in?” He turned back to you and Kylo. “She's been worried--”

He hadn't finished his sentence when Talia came barrelling into the room, her long arms throwing the curtains aside. She pointed from Kylo to you, eyes wide and alarmed. You could tell that she hadn't slept at all and was on the brink of collapse.

“Dear God, Talia, were you waiting on the other side of the door?” you asked as she ran over and immediately started to inspect your arm that was stretched out on your lap.

“Yeah, maybe.” She ran a finger over your arm and seemed to be content that you weren't dying, and then she sat on the bed beside you so that the mattress buckled with the combined weight of three people. Kylo seemed confused by her sudden presence and made to move, but she shoved him back down. “Nope! You stay.”

Kylo sat back down, looking exceedingly uncomfortable.

“I've got good news and... well... I don't know, it's just news.” Talia began to babble at full speed as Petyr continued to poke and prod your arm as he fit a new brace into place. “So Amena's out of surgery—thanks Dr Hermeyer--”

“No problem,” he mentioned without looking up.

“--And she's in recovery. Probably needs rehab for a while because apparently a blaster can disintegrate bone, so a portion of her pelvis is now metal. She looks... ugh, she looks fucking awful. But I mean, she lived through two blaster hits, so what can you expect? And Phasma is still fucking beside herself, so I feel guilty as hell. I know Hux hates hearing it, but it really, really should have been me. This whole thing would've worked out better if it had been, and--”

Kylo cut Talia off, using the Force to shut her mouth, and Talia's eyebrows knitted together in disapproval.

“That's better,” he sighed.

Talia folded her arms tightly against her chest, getting further flustered. Kylo merely raised an eyebrow in her direction with a tiny smirk.

“Let her speak, Kylo; it's probably cathartic,” you said.

He groaned and lowered his hand, and Talia's mouth was instantly open again in sleep-deprived excitement.

“Rude arse,” she spat in his direction. “Anyway, there's nothing we can do to help Amena right now, but...” And here her voice went into a sing song. “Guess what  _I_ got to see while waiting for Amena to get out of surgery? The Troopers! The demented ones! They're just down the hall, and you would not believe what--”

Kylo held his hand up again, and all at once, Talia's eyes fluttered, and she fell face first into the mattress, sound asleep. He stood from where he had been seated on the bed and gave a stretch. “If Hux asks, she fell asleep on her own.”

Dr Petyr Hermeyer seemed rather unconcerned about everything that had just happened and finished placing a lightweight brace on your arm with Talia snoring just inches away. For the first time in hours, you could actually move your arm, and you gave a slight bend at the elbow. Thanking him, you stood beside Kylo, who was already pulling on his boots and tugging his coat and belt into place.

“There won't be any medical services offered at the satellite, so you'll have to see me again in two weeks to remove your stitches and that brace. In the mean time, don't do anything stupid,” he warned. Petyr rolled back over to the intercom, asking for Lethe again, and hardly any time passed before a small sprite of a woman had entered the room, followed by the ever sulking General himself.

Hux took one glance at Talia on the bed and sighed as he walked over to tuck her in.

“She fell asleep like that,” Kylo mentioned, and then he picked up his helmet that had been stashed beneath his bed and made his way toward the curtains. He gave a longing glance toward you, his hand flinching instinctively as though he wanted to wrap his arm around your waist and draw you in for a kiss, but there were too many people around. He nodded instead, and then his helmet was placed into position, and he was gone.

In his wake was Lethe. She was tiny, with a dark complexion and large, rounded features on her long face. Taking a glance at her name tag, you noticed that her last name was  _also_ Hermeyer, and any questions as to their relationship were answered as she gave a peck of a kiss to Petyr as he left the room.

“So you're the doctor that I've heard so much about,” she hummed, voice soft and smooth like a wisp of summer wind. “Amena and Talia were both in communication with my husband and me until recently. They said that you were looking into possible causes of dementia for the Troopers?”

Lethe began to lead you out of the room, and you could just make out Kylo Ren at the end of the hall, walking as fast as his long legs could carry him to most likely speak with Snoke. Instead of following him, Lethe turned down another sick bay hallway and began to tap away at a long series of numbers on a keypad by a door.

“Well, I showed Talia already, but now I have the pleasure of showing you.”

The door slid open with a small set of beeps, and it abruptly shut once you had stepped foot inside. Suddenly, you found yourself in a room that looked nothing at all like what you had seen before in the sick bay. The white, sterile walls were gone. No curtains, no monitors keeping vitals, no medical tools. It looked like a very large house or hotel, and two Troopers passed by with stumbling gaits—neither paying any attention to you nor Lethe.

“Where are we?”

Lethe grinned and took a tiny step forward. “This is  _my_ neck of the woods we're in now. Welcome to the Stormkiller Base's memory care unit. You're in for a wild ride.”

* * *

**A/N:** Y'all get to see some demented Storm Troopers next chapter; get excited.


	24. Memory Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lethe Hermeyer is the administrator of the Starkiller Base's memory care unit for demented Storm Troopers, and she has an entirely different side of the story to show you. No more numbers or brain scans. This is the real deal.
> 
> Note: All examples are pulled from my real-life experiences working in two memory care units as an activities director and lifestyle coordinator to people with moderate and severe dementia (mostly Alzheimer's Disease, vascular dementia, Parkinson's Disease, and Lewy Body Disease). I tried to make this a more humorous chapter. Many sad things happened when I worked at the assisted livings; I saw many, many of my residents die or decline to terrible places both cognitively and physically. But funny things happened, too, and that's what I want to give you all.

**Playlists:** [ Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bd2B6SjMh_w&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhalyaU-AVXgmo81060eVts-)

* * *

“Can somebody help me?”

A few seconds passed, and then a voice came again from the other room, repeating the same question again every ten seconds. “Can somebody help me? ...Ma'am... Can you help me? Somebody help me.”

Lethe entirely ignored the Storm Trooper calling from the other room and guided you into a dining area big enough to seat a few dozen people at small, circular tables. Troopers passed by on occasion, but more were seated at the tables or in chairs around the memory care facility. Most of them stared off when not being directly spoken to. The few who weren't seated wandered aimlessly, searching for an unknown that existed in disrupted memories. Across the dining room was an open kitchen, and a familiar blonde was at the stove, flipping food in a pan and chatting with a care giver who leaned over the metal counter. Lethe gave them a wave as you both got nearer, and they turned to wave back.

“Hey, I know you!” The blonde was pointing with her spatula and began to wipe her hands on an apron over her First Order uniform. “Yer that girl—the one with the big shots. Shit, I thought that Rylo Ken dude was gonna kick yer arse.”

Lethe narrowed her eyes, glancing from you to the blonde. “You've met Deirdre?”

You nodded. “In passing.”

Deirdre shrugged her shoulders and went back to her cooking. “I meet  _everyone_ in passing.”

Lethe waved for you to follow her as she left the kitchen area and started to walk down a circular hallway with many patient rooms—most of which were locked to keep the wandering Troopers from going into the wrong rooms out of confusion. It was surprising how unclinical the hallway felt. It could have been a dorm hallway at your old university if you hadn't known better by the random Trooper in a wheelchair or with a walker going by. The halls were fairly quiet and calm with some art hung at intervals that had all been signed by either Lethe or Petyr.

“I was told by Talia that you haven't actually met with any of the Troopers who have dementia; is that true?” Lethe asked as you walked.

“Yes. I'm afraid that I've only seen their brains and medical files rather than the Troopers themselves.”

Lethe gave a slow nod of her head, black curls bobbing along. “It's an entirely different world, you know? I understand that you see the neuroimages and know all of the research and whatnot, but it's important to see your patients—or research subjects, I guess—up close. Learn about their individual behaviour and then put together some pieces of the puzzle. I don't know  _why_ the Troopers are demented, and really, it doesn't matter much to me. I just know that they  _are_ , and I know what to do about who they are at this moment in time.”

“What are they like?” you asked. You knew that they were supposed to have memory difficulties, trouble with walking, and show general apathy, but that didn't really explain all that much.

“They're quiet for the most part. In the beginning stages, they still talk a lot but say the most inappropriate of things. It's part of the disease, so don't take it personally. They just don't have any control over their decision making or social skills. Impulse control is at zero. It's like the first thing to go. And their short-term memory falls apart. They may remember their childhoods and early adulthood, but after that? It's all fuzzy. So even though most of our patients are over forty, most of them think that they're around nineteen or so.”

“And do you try to tell them the truth?” you asked.

Lethe looked at you like you had two heads. “The  _truth_ ? What even  _is_ the truth? Their reality is their truth. It's not our duty—not even our right—to tell them that they're wrong. We only get to be a bridge between their beliefs and the real world. But the truth? It doesn't serve a purpose. If they think they're sixteen and training to be a Trooper, then that's real to them. It doesn't have to be real for me to still give them respect.”

You both had nearly walked a full circle through the hallway of Troopers' rooms when a man came wheeling by in a motorised wheelchair. He stopped before you with a hello and then stared at Lethe for a while as though trying to place how he knew her. Of course, they saw each other daily, but he didn't know that.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Lethe bent at the knees to be on his level and gave a smile. “Lethe Hermeyer.”

His eyebrows pulled together, and he looked slightly taken aback. “Why do  _you_ get to be Lethe?”

Lethe answered without skipping a beat. “Because that's what my mum named me.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“She liked the name.”

“It's a stupid name.”

Lethe grinned with a little chuckle and stood back up. The man stared her down with a look that could kill as he let the wheelchair move forward.

All the while, you stood back in complete confusion. “Is that... normal?”

She shrugged. “Nothing is normal around here.”

Neither of you had walked very far when another Trooper meandered over. His shirt was inside out and pants on backwards with several hoarded items in the back pockets... Or, well, now the  _front_ pockets. You tried to stifle a laugh, feeling somewhat like a jerk that you would be entertained at the expense of a Storm Trooper whose brain was literally disintegrating. Lethe gave you a small warning glance, but you could see the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Ryder,” she greeted. “Did you change out of the clothes that Braelyn dressed you in?”

He seemed confused, not answering the question and instead getting closer to both of you with a worried, anxious expression. “Miss, do you know when my kids are getting home from school?”

For a moment, he glanced between you and Lethe without knowing which of you would have the answers he sought. The man had to have been in his sixties, and you somewhat doubted that he would have young children. Thankfully, you got to keep your mouth shut.

“Ryder,” Lethe directed. “How old are your children?”

“Five and three,” he answered with complete conviction.

“Really? Okay. Well, I'll have Deirdre and Braelyn walk them home from school this afternoon.”

He suddenly looked completely relieved. “You'll do that?”

“Certainly.”

He shook Lethe's hand and gave you a small nod before walking off. You turned back, watching as he checked door to door, cursing as each was locked and then moving to the next one.

“Does he actually have children?”

Lethe nodded. “Yeah, yeah, but they're in their forties. Both are Storm Troopers as well and come by to visit maybe once a year. He doesn't know that, though.”

By this point, you had completed the circle of rooms and were right back at the dining area where most of the Troopers were gathered. A few care givers were walking to and fro, delivering medicine, and Deirdre had finished cooking up a stack of pancakes and was delivering breakfast to a few Troopers who had woken late. The scene was actually... just not what you had expected. It was still so much calmer than you had imagined, so much more home-like. Of course, the First Order had a lot of resources and money to spend on these Troopers, so it shouldn't have surprised you all that much that the facility would be nice, but something still seemed a little shocking. You just couldn't put your finger on it.

“Will somebody help me?” That voice came back. It wasn't desperate, wasn't scared or hurt. Just a simple question on repeat that you could hear again now that you were in the main room. You could see a little resting nook set up against the dining room with some easy chairs, and a particularly large Trooper was in the chair, looking over with a smile to Deirdre who had just walked past.

“Ma'am... will somebody help me?”

Deirdre groaned whilst setting a plate of food in front of another Trooper and putting his fork into his hand to show him how to start eating. “I seriously can't stand him. He does this  _non stop_ all day 'er day.”

“Will somebody help me?”

“Yer fine, Jorge,” Deirdre called to him.

He stopped for a moment, looking a little surprised. “Oh.”

Fifteen seconds passed.

“Will somebody help me?”

“Ugggh!” Deirdre cringed and stomped her feet in aggravation. “Jorge, whatta'ya need help with?”

“I'm lonely.”

“How do ya want me to help with that?”

“Hold me.”

“...What?”

“Will you hold me? Take me in your arms?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Another ten seconds passed.

“Will somebody--”

“OH MY GOD, JORGE. NO. YER FINE.”

Lethe clucked her tongue at Deirdre and meandered over to the Trooper to talk to him and find a way to distract him from constantly wanting help but not actually knowing what he wanted help  _with_ . You stood back to watch and sat on the edge of an unoccupied table. Lethe had a certain softness to her that seemed to calm everyone in her vicinity—the exact opposite effect of Deirdre who was made of pure energy and loud noises. Apparently, some people were just better suited for working with the demented Troopers than others, and you weren't completely certain as to how Deirdre had managed to get a job in this place. She seemed better suited to a rough pub than anything else.

Around this time, the front door made a few beeps and quickly slid open. You knew who was walking through before you ever saw him—just by the Force Bond suddenly growing stronger—and your lips curled into a smile. Kylo Ren was making a b-line toward you, and his mind was fighting back rolling waves of anger. He stood silently beside you, obviously agitated and yet trying his best to be guarded and show absolutely nothing.

“I just finished speaking with Snoke,” he mentioned, voice distorted and menacing beneath his helmet. He was trying to keep his voice steady and just a whisper but was failing miserably. And all the while, you could hear snippets of his thoughts through the Bond, feel his emotions. He was upset about how much was filtering through and tried to block it out—tried to make it so that you wouldn't hear a single thing. But even if his thoughts weren't bouncing in your head, his feelings still translated through. They were much more difficult for him to keep from seeping into your consciousness.

You  _knew_ that he was angry. You could smell the burnt metal on his clothes and know that he had most likely just come from destroying something. For a moment, you wondered why he would even try to come near you if he didn't have much control over his thoughts and didn't want you to know anything, but at the same time, you knew that he wanted to be by you more than anything. He  _needed_ to be near you.

Your hand slipped down to his and gave a tiny squeeze.

_“I don't want to feel this right now.”_ His voice broke through, pained and struggling.

“You don't have to,” you whispered.

Kylo squeezed back. It was obvious that he saw you as some kind of answer to the pain and anger, and he placed his hands on your shoulders. If he could have pulled you to him for hours on end, he would have, but there were too many eyes. Too many people with too loud of mouths, and he didn't need rumours spreading any further than they already were.

His thoughts were still breaking through the Bond that he tried to keep closed, and you could hear him stressing about Luke. Was this because of your earlier conversation? Had you unintentionally set off a fire within him that couldn't be put out? But something was different. Something to do with a map. What map? You had heard very briefly of a map before—one that the First Order was trying to find—but now it seemed so much more urgent.

As you waited for Lethe to walk back and for Kylo to calm down, a Trooper started to wander over. He swayed a little bit as he walked but otherwise could have passed for a completely healthy man. Stopping in front of you and Kylo, he gave a long glance at Kylo's helmet and all black, slowly nodding his head in approval. Then he looked at you and took another step forward so that he was only a few inches from your face. You would have taken a step back if it wasn't for you already sitting on the edge of the table. Apparently, personal space was no longer a concept that the Trooper understood.

“Hey,” he said after a few seconds of slowly looking at every inch of you. “You and me should go fuck.”

For a moment, all you could do was sit there in shock, not even knowing what to say because his comment seemed to come from completely nowhere. Lethe had suddenly perked up from where she knelt by the other Trooper and came running over.

“Mac! You can't say that!” She turned to you. “This is what I meant about decision making and no impulse control--”

But her explanation turned into a shriek, because Kylo's hand had balled into a fist, and he punched the Trooper straight into the jaw with all his strength, sending the Trooper flying backwards onto the floor.

You let out a yelp and pulled his arm back. “OH MY GOD, KYLO! YOU CAN'T PUNCH THE DEMENTIA PATIENTS IN THE FACE!”

Kylo was absolutely livid. “Did you  _hear_ what he just asked you?!”

You pulled him aside, feeling his jealousy permeate the air so heavily that it was sickening. Scolding Kylo seemed to have little effect as he continued to feel outrage that you would be disrespected in such a way.

“Kylo, that man's brain is the consistency of jelly! In what world do you think that he is capable of controlling himself?  _You_ on the other hand, have a perfectly fine functioning brain and full cognitive abilities and  _do_ have the ability to control yourself.”

“HE ASKED YOU--”

You put your hands against his helmet as though he would be able to feel the warmth of your fingers. “I  _literally_ do not care what he said, Kylo. Neither should you.”

He groaned through the voice-distorter of his helmet, which came through as a static rumble.

All the while, Lethe was trying to comfort Mac, pick him up off of the floor, and make sure that he wasn't harmed. And then Deirdre's boisterous laugh was echoing around the room as she cracked up on the floor, clutching her stomach as she shrieked and kicked at the air.

“Holy shit!” Deirdre was laughing until she cried. “Rylo—Rylo, oh my God! You fuckin' slayed 'is arse!”

“Come on, Kylo...” Dragging him away from the situation seemed to be the best option at this point, because Mac was back on his feet and roaring mad, and Kylo was grumbling inaudibly, his fingers itching to ignite the lightsaber at his belt.

You tried to open the front door of the memory care unit by entering in the code that you  _thought_ Lethe had used to unlock it, but apparently you had not actually remembered the correct code—which seemed pretty fucking ironic at the moment. Kylo pushed your hand aside from the keypad and held his out until the entire pad began to spark. Suddenly, it caught flame, and he bashed his gloved hand into the keypad, putting out the flame and crushing it. The door beeped and opened.

Kylo marched out into the hallway, pacing and finally stopping by a circular viewport to lean his hands against the sill and stare out at the snow that was whipping through the air. You meandered over, taking your time. You were too tired for all of this.

Gently, you put your left hand on his back and could feel the stitches pull painfully beneath the gauze. “We should go back to the satellite,” you mentioned whilst watching the snow with him. “I need to feed Pickles before he destroys my entire apartment. And I just don't want to be here.”

“Neither do I,” he mentioned. “Though I already arranged for your cat to be fed.”

That surprised you. “Really? Hopefully you didn't ask Phasma since she's probably still beside herself with worry about Amena. I was thinking of having Mickella do it.”

You couldn't see Kylo's face beneath the helmet, but you knew that he was grimacing.

“No... You asked  _Phasma_ ?  _Phasma_ ? Who has most likely been  _stressed out of her mind_ because her best friend was nearly killed?! Kylo!”

His hands were up in exasperation. “Well, she readily agreed!”

“But my God, of all people!”

“She said that she needed the break for a while, anyway. Feeding your cat is most likely her only distraction for the day.”

You were rubbing at your temples, worried that Pickles would only stress her out more. “Do you think that she'll be all right?”

Kylo shrugged. “I don't know! Maybe?”

* * *

What you didn't know was that, at that very moment, Phasma was passed the fuck out in her armour on your couch, slightly snoring as Pickles slept on top of her head.

* * *

“We can only hope that she's fine...” you sighed and then looked back out at the snow. It was falling in large clumps and swirling about in the wind in perpetual winter.

Kylo reached for the clasps at his chin and removed his helmet, placing it on the viewport sill. His nose and lips still had a blue tint to them from the silver nitrate, but it had already faded slightly from the night before when you both had arrived to the base. If Amena was correct, he would carry the poison in his skin for a few more days. Kylo was looking at his reflection in the glass, hearing your thoughts.

“Do I look as terrible as I still feel?” he asked. You had been aware of the burning in his throat ever since he had been poisoned, but you didn't think that he was talking about the physical pain. He sighed and put his arm around your waist, letting his fingers drum against your side. You didn't know how to answer that.

“Let's go home, Kylo. Let's forget that the past twenty four hours ever happened.” You sat on the edge of the sill and rested your head against his chest, and Kylo wrapped his arms completely around you with his face in your hair. He kissed along your hairline.

“Not all of it,” he replied. His gloved fingers were at your chin, lifting your face so that he could study each feature. His dark eyes moved from your eyes and down to your mouth, and his thumb traced over your bottom lip. Moving in, he kissed your lips and hovered just above your face. “Don't forget that...” He swallowed hard without breaking eye contact. “Remember that I love you. And I mean it.”

* * *

**A/N:** Fluuuuufffffff. Yuuusssssssss.

Literally every story about the Troopers is true, though there was a great mixture of dementia types rather than CTE. I plan on posting a few more stories as random little one shots, one of which is a deleted scene that will be posted below. If you would like to learn more about Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, you can visit the Brain Injury Research Institute's website here:  <http://www.protectthebrain.org/Brain-Injury-Research/What-is-CTE-.aspx>

* * *

**Deleted Scene:**

Another Trooper was ambling over with the use of a walker, getting animated and agitated. She had stuck little pink dog stickers all over her walker and set it aside to hold onto Lethe's hands.

“Did you let the dogs out?” she asked, voice cracking. “I'm afraid they're gonna shit on my floor.”

Deirdre raised her hand whilst flipping a pancake with the other. “Yeah, hun, I let 'em out already.”

“Well, good, because I don't wanna have to clean up any more dog shit in my room—I'm getting real tired of it.”

Then the woman walked off with her walker, just barely keeping from tripping over her own feet which were decked out in sparkly leopard-print slippers. You turned to Lethe in surprise.

“Wait... Are the Troopers allowed to have pets?”

Lethe shook her head and laughed as the woman left ear-shot. “No, no. She just  _thinks_ that she has a dog. I think it's from looking at her walker all day. She's  _really_ convinced and makes us 'take out her dogs'.”

You couldn't help but feel sorry for the Trooper who believed so strongly that she had pets, and you wondered where in her memory those dogs truly lived. “So... Who's shit is she supposedly cleaning up in her room?”

Lethe shrugged and kept walking. “No one's, probably.”

Deirdre had scampered over to listen to the conversation and whispered in your ear, “Probably her own.”

“Deirdre!”

“I'm just callin' it as I see it, Lethe!”

 


	25. Solos and Skywalkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes crashing down as you finally confront Kylo Ren concerning the scribbled out 'Ben' in the cover of his books, and you find a new world of fear that you had never anticipated but always should have.

**Playlists:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qW0pc0z-ooo&index=1&list=PL0PGmOE0Guhb3fWY1-5jZdPpXetwbV5f8)

* * *

 

You had heard a saying once upon a time about home being wherever your heart was, which had always sounded pretty dumb until right about now. Your heart had never attached itself to a place before this—not at your home planet that you had left as a teenager, not at the university where you had lived and studied and worked for half of your life. But this satellite floating miles above the Starkiller Base had somehow captured your heart.

_Someone_ had captured your heart.

So much had happened over the past few days with having nearly died in Stratoveer's attack and killing someone for the first (and hopefully last) time. At night, you saw his gaunt face above yours, glaring down his nose at you and holding Kylo Ren's lightsaber. Just as he would lower his arms to strike, you would awake in your bed with the covers tangled around you and sweat soaking through your tank top. Your breath would be caught in your throat as though you had suffered for years without air, and you'd cough and choke into the night, scaring away Pickles.

Nights were difficult. But days were better.

Kylo Ren seemed to always be around. Whenever he wasn't tending to business on the Base or out visiting planets in search of that map, he was with you. Sometimes, he would drop by for only a few minutes—just long enough to steal a kiss and hold you as tight as possible to him. Other times, he would manage to stay for a while, and you would cuddle into him on your couch. He would talk at lengths about what was stressing him or about new leads on the map or how much he wanted to punch General Hux in the face. And then you would read aloud to him until he drifted off with you in his arms. He  _would_ have trained you in the Force during this time, but for now, it wasn't his top priority. You didn't mind that much.

Each moment was special, was precious. Every touch, every glance, every kiss. They all filled you like a glass overflowing. Kylo Ren was a walking human disaster, but he was  _your_ disaster, and you were a storm to match him.

Nothing was really normal these days, but you weren't sure if you even  _wanted_ normalcy any more. A new definition of normal had formed in your mind and had wrapped itself around Kylo Ren and a new interest in your research. The new normal was to see your arm still wrapped up in gauze to hide a row of stitches and a brace to keep your other arm from rebreaking. Neither were all that obtrusive any more, and you were able to go back to work as though the injuries had never happened.

Of course, injuries  _had_ happened, and there was still so much to deal with. The satellite's medical wing was completely shut down due to the damage sustained during the fighting—not to mention that there were no longer any staff to work there. Amena was recovering on the Base and had finished her surgeries, so now she faced the long road of preparing herself for two months of physical rehabilitation.

She had set up a meeting with you and the other researchers through videocom during the morning. Talia, Mickella, and Byrt had gathered around a computer to see her for the first time in a week. She looked exhausted with dark circles under her eyes and her scarf not wrapped as beautifully as usual around her head, but otherwise, she seemed to be doing well. Her voice had been rough from a breathing tube inserted during her last surgery, and she would cough or type out sentences when the words stuck in her throat. And on occasion, you were fairly sure that she typed because she couldn't bare to speak out loud about her recovery. Mentioning that she would have to relearn how to walk seemed especially damaging for her.

But at least Amena wasn't forced to bare the burden of her healing alone. You noticed that Phasma was in the background during the call, and you found yourself grinning. Whatever connection they had, you weren't completely sure, but you encouraged it. They needed one another.

As the comm had ended with Amena hoarsely agreeing to get well as soon as possible, you began to go back to your research. Talia was right back to looking at some brains—the brains she had actually scavenged from the two Storm Troopers killed by Stratoveer. And Byrt and Mickella explained some of their findings to you for a while until everyone split off to go about their separate business.

There were so many files to be uploaded from Byrt and Mickella, but you were thankful for them—finally, you felt like you had some solid leads on this mystery. You plugged in the tiny flash drive they had provided and watched hundreds of pictures flash across your computer monitor and upload into a neuroimaging programme that would track specific neural damage. Your visit to the memory care unit on the Base had refreshed your interest. Seeing the Troopers up close and personal had made you question more about the specific parts of the brain that were being damaged by the mystery dementia. Their behaviour had reminded you so much of everything you had read about frontal lobe damage. The walking and gait difficulties, inappropriate sexual behaviour, death glares, apathy... It all sounded too familiar and yet was different. There had to be some kind of commonality, but you didn't know what.

Your hypothesis at the moment was that the damage was not occurring as much to the hippocampal structure of the brain—the area in charge of most memory—but instead to the frontal cortex and amygdala. Both of those structures controlled emotion and social regulation and decision making, which seemed to be most of the problem. Sure, memory deficits were there, but you weren't satisfied with only looking at that one problem.

It would take a long time for the neuroimaging programme to sort through the scans of the brains and compare the Troopers to a database of frontal temporal dementia images that existed on the holonet, so you had a considerable amount of time to kill. The programme ran along in the background with an estimated finishing time of four hours later, so you packed your bag and wandered back to your apartment for a little while.

Pickles greeted you at the door, and you held him for a little while as you finished reading yet another book from Kylo Ren. This one seemed to be an historical account of some ancient Force users and read like the driest of textbooks, but you had finished it. You weren't sure how much you had understood, but maybe that wasn't the point. And like the other books that he had loaned to you, the name 'Ben' was scratched onto the inside cover and sloppily covered with ink.

Gathering the rest of Kylo's books, you decided to head over to his bunker to return them. You rather doubted that he would be there because of his busy schedule, but you were sure he would appreciate having his books back. They seemed to be sacred objects to him.

Plus you knew the code to get into his bunker, which you had nudged out of him a few days before. He hadn't been the most willing to reveal the number but realised that his bunker was possibly the safest place for you to be in case of an emergency. And after Stratoveer's attack, your safety seemed to be on his mind more often. His protective nature had dominated his need for absolute privacy.

You entered the long code of numbers beside his door and gave a quick greeting through the intercom just in case he should be inside. As the door opened, you heard a low yell and something fall to the floor with a crash. Your breath hitched in your chest, and you jumped back, instantly regretting your decision and yelling out an apology as quickly as possible. Your back was pressed against the opposing wall of the hallway, and the books had fallen to the ground.

Kylo appeared in the doorway looking slightly frazzled and wearing nothing but a pair of loose, black trousers. His hair was a mess, and you noticed that his shirt had been hastily thrown over the pedestal in the bunker. Leaning against the wall, you felt like a total fuck up and tried to search his mind for answers to why he looked so stressed. He stood there with his bare chest heaving, eyes narrowed and threatening. The Force Bond felt as though he had shut it down entirely—like he had built a heavy wall that you couldn't climb over nor break through. Suddenly, you understood how Kylo had felt all of those times that he had desperately tried to enter your mind only to fail over and again.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. “I didn't think that you were going to be here.”

“Well, I am.” His agitation was through the roof.

You picked up the books from the floor and held them out, ready to return them. “I brought these for you.”

Kylo sighed and motioned for you to join him inside, and as you passed by, a temptation began to grow within you to reach out and touch him. It occurred to you then that you had never seen him without a shirt—had never seen the muscles of his chest and abs and all of the white scars that marked his body. You had always known that those muscles existed; they had been beneath your fingers so many times but through all the layers of his coat and padded armour. But seeing him so exposed was an entirely different story, and it was, quite frankly, entirely overwhelming. The image of his skin was flooding your mind as you put the books back on the shelf with your back to him.

The Force Bond was slowly coming back like the gentle ebb of the tides, and you knew that Kylo was completely aware of just how flustered you were because of seeing him without a shirt. He chuckled from the other side of the room and then walked up behind you to give a tight hug and kiss at your ears and down your jaw. Your back was to his chest, and your hands held onto his taut arms. Slowly, he guided you to face him, and your hands glided from his collarbones and then down his firm chest and to his abs. Every second of touching him felt like an eternity. Electricity was coursing through your fingers and into your bloodstream, and you pulled away for just a moment. You seemed so out of breath—as though you had just run up several flights of stairs. Your cheeks were flushed as you studied his body. All the while, he was grinning from full lips, watching your eyes flutter and your teeth bite at your bottom lip.

“Did you like the books?” he asked, enjoying watching you snap out of your revelry.

“Yes,” you answered while trying to keep your voice steady. “Thank you.”

Kylo gave a half smile toward the full shelves. Books were so incredibly rare to find outside of academia; it was a wonder that he had any at all.

“By the way,” you asked, finally looking at his face again. “Who is Ben?”

Kylo stiffened against you and took a step back with those long legs. The sudden loss of his body heat left you shivering, though it could have also been caused by the bitter expression that he was giving you.

“How do you know that name?”

You pointed to the books. “It was written inside all three of them. I was just wondering who he was—if maybe he had owned the books before you.” Perhaps Kylo had inherited them.

Kylo took a moment to gather his thoughts, and the Force Bond went right back to being blocked as he paced back and forth. After a minute of him grabbing at his hair and thinking, he turned to you with an explanation.

“He was a Jedi—a user of the Light side of the Force and mentor to my uncle. Obi-wan...  _Ben_ Kenobi.”

You gave a tiny nod of your head, feeling as though there was some information just under the surface. Why did that name sound vaguely familiar? You were sure that you had never actually heard it before, and yet the very feel of the words in your mouth felt as though they had been whispered all of your life. Except they hadn't been whispered from  _your_ lips. From the lips of another. From someone whose existence you had only recently discovered.

A strange realisation was sinking in. It was as though a partially completed puzzle was before you, and in a matter of seconds, all of the pieces had picked up and fallen precisely where they were meant to go all along.

“And your uncle...” you said, putting everything together. “He's Luke, isn't he?”

Kylo took in a long breath, and you could see him flex his hands, the veins in his arms popping from the muscles as he tried to contain the anger that resonated within him from hearing that name.

“Yes.”

“And Luke... He also uses the Light side of the Force?”

“Yes.”

“And he's the one you're after. The one...”  _you want to kill._

“...Yes.”

Kylo's answers were monosyllabic and forced through a clenched jaw. You realised that you were hitting upon shaky ground, upon hidden territory that you were never meant to access, but you couldn't stop. You needed to understand the full picture of what you were uncovering, whether that put you in danger of Kylo's rage or not.

“What happened to him?”  _What happened to_ you _to pull you so far away from the Light and focus on the Dark instead?_

You were wondering about the intricacies of Kylo Ren's past, and he could hear you even if you couldn't hear  _his_ thoughts. With every thought that passed from you to him, he grimaced further and fell deeper into his own personal hell.

He paced back and forth again, voice stilted. “Luke Skywalker tried to train me as a Jedi, and he failed. That failure will haunt him for the rest of his miserable days.”

Something wasn't making sense to you. “But he's your family. Your uncle--”

“ _Was_ my uncle. He is no family of mine any longer. My only family resides in the First Order.  _Snoke_ provided a far greater family than nature would have chosen. He provided the other Knights of Ren, the Dark users of the Force who don't have to follow the archaic rules of the Jedi nor New Republic and their ties to the terrorist Resistance! I am dead to my family, and they are dead to me.”

Kylo's voice was rising, getting louder and lethal as his eyes stared off into the past. He was gripping his fists so tight that his knuckles had turned white and arms were trembling. You had hit on possibly the worst topic of conversation imaginable and should have tried to shift his attention away, but it was already out of your control. Kylo had only just started, and now he was yelling. His rage was escalating to new levels with words echoing in the small room.

Your feet started to carry you further from him, trying to back up and make yourself as small as humanly possible because the rising pitch was getting out of control. Glancing toward the door, you were glad to see his lightsaber resting on a small table and not attached to his belt or in his hand. Otherwise, you knew that he would be destroying something within seconds.

Instead, his fury carried through his speech—words like a hurricane of knives.

“My family means  _nothing_ ,” he continued. “Any shred of them that's still within me has caused nothing but pain and hatred. And Luke is so much of the cause! Luke and Ha--” His voice cracked.

Kylo was getting closer to you, looking as wild as an animal and just as deadly.

“You don't understand,” he spat. “How can you? You know  _nothing_ of what has happened between us! Between Luke and my parents and our entire fucking family! I hear Luke's name, and I hear every memory of failure. I hear everyone trying to shove me into the Light when I was never meant to pursue it. I hear my parents crying and screaming at me to not follow this path, and they are so wrong! They are  _so incredibly wrong_ and have always been wrong! Do you understand how that feels? Have you ever had to see everyone that was your family turn their back in shame because you've done what you see right? HAVE YOU?”

Tears were pooling in Kylo's eyes and running down his cheeks. He was so livid and living only in those memories in that moment, as though the reality where you were was so very, very far away that it may as well have never existed. He was fully gone as he relived through harrowing recollections. And you could hear those screams and shouts from his mind. You heard a woman shriek after him; heard a man yell for his son; heard the cries of untold numbers that feared and loathed him.

Those voices called out to him, but it wasn't 'Kylo' leaving their mouths.

_Ben!_

Their collective shouts were for Ben. The Force Bond exploded into a vision, pushing you back into time and seeing through Kylo's eyes. No; not Kylo's.  _Ben's_ . Tears were clouding his vision as he looked through the slit of his helmet at a tiny, yet powerful woman. Her brown hair was greying and falling from its ornate plait that wrapped around her head as she desperately ran toward Ben.

“You're my  _son_ !” she cried out. “Don't leave us!”

Ben backed up and ignited his lightsaber, watching as she came to a halt before him. Fear filtered her features, but she stood proud as the saber sparked before her.

“Ben...” she begged.

“That's no longer my name,” Kylo answered. The distortion of his voice only barely masked his own sorrow.

“Ben... I love you.”

“He's dead!”

The woman reached out, her hand hovering dangerously close to the saber's blade. “No he isn't.”

With a furious growl, Kylo turned around and sprinted away, the lightsaber cutting through the air as he ran. And as the tears fell and pressed between his cheeks and the cold metal of the helmet, you blinked back into reality to see the present day Kylo before you.

“ _You're_ Ben...” you whispered.

Kylo barred his teeth and slammed his fist into the bookcase, sending books and loose pages fluttering to the floor around you. “ _NOOO_ ,” he screamed. Grabbing one of the books, he threw it across the room and then pulled at his hair, screaming at the top of his lungs. “I AM NOT BEN. HE'S DEAD. HE'S GONE. I AM ONLY KYLO.”

He had sunk to the floor, holding his head as he yelled out in tortured screams. Everything hurt, like he was being stabbed through the stomach and slowly gutted. His lungs were collapsing, heart being torn. Why did this have to be so painful? Why? He slammed his fist into the shelf again, splitting the knuckles of his right hand that began to bleed, and the real, physical pain brought him back to standing. It seemed to fuel his anger even more, and he was right back in your face with tears and blood mingling against his skin.

“And I know that you've heard me,” he growled. “Heard my thoughts about the map, about Luke, about everything! I have a chance to actually find Luke and set things straight! I have the ability to bring order to this entire fucked up galaxy, and finding him is the key to that! I can show him just how wrong he was and still is; how he should have listened to my grandfather and should have given up on the ridiculous task of starting a new Jedi Order to force feed his Light propaganda into the minds of children who don't even  _know_ that the Dark exists and would welcome them with open arms! I can show him! AND I CAN KILL HIM!”

By this point, you were cowering against the bookshelf, back sliding down the spines of books as you tried to press yourself lower and lower to the floor. Never before had you been so terrified of him. His yells had grown so loud, so close. It was as though you finally could see what had been swelling inside of him all of this time, and it was a terrifying and savage hatred.

Tears had escaped your own eyes as well and ran down your cheeks and to your chin, and the sight snapped Kylo back into reality. He seemed startled, as though he didn't know how he had even gotten here. His face suddenly softened, and he came to realise that he was crying, too. Reaching to his face with a trembling hand, he rubbed at his cheek and pulled away to stare at the tears and blood that glittered against his pale flesh. Then his shimmering black eyes met yours. The pain rippled through him again, but it was a different pain. It was the incredible hurt and shame at himself for having scared you to the point of crying. He reached out a hand, shaking with fear that you would pull away.

“I'm... so sorry,” he said, and you could feel the Force Bond fall into a comfortable, neutral state. Kylo was no longer boarding up that bridge between you nor pulling you into his memories. There was no more hiding. “I'm so, so sorry.”

His hand gently pressed against your shoulder, not sure how much he was allowed to touch you. In that moment, he saw himself as nothing but a monster, and he was terrified. Terrified of himself. Of your reaction.

You shuddered at his touch and wished that you wouldn't. You  _knew_ that he was sorry.  _Knew_ that he was prone to releasing his anger and accidentally causing harm. He had caught himself in time and hadn't hurt you, but your heart was beating in your throat and knees trembling. You wanted nothing more than to slip away or melt into the floor to never be seen again. You wanted him to be smiling again—to not have any memories of his past to haunt him.

Neither of you moved. Kylo's hand hovered frozen over your shoulder, only an inch away. But that inch could have been miles and miles. Entire galaxies had spread between you. You choked on your tears, on the distance, on the fear and utter horror of his rage.

Kylo watched as your eyes glanced to the door. Slowly, he put his hand down to his side and took a small step back. This was the moment that you needed, and you darted like a trapped mouse, running out of the bunker at top speed and down the hall as quickly as your legs could carry you.

* * *

**Glossary:**

_Hippocampus:_ Area of the brain that is primarily in charge of storing memories.

_Frontal Cortex:_ Front lobe of the brain that is in charge of higher thinking such as decision making, personality, social regulation, etc. It's the part of the brain that makes you  _you._

_Amygdala:_ Part of the brain that controls emotion and emotional regulation.

* * *

**A/N:** Dude, Kylo straight up sucks.


	26. Intimate Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the angriest, most violence-prone man in the galaxy can still say 'sorry'.

**Playlist:** [ Youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYSVMgRr6pw&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZnN1nepPQQSQCu_EMRsmG_)

**Content Warning:** Guess what landed in NSFW territory? This chapter.

* * *

 

An agonising burn ran through the muscles of your legs as you continued to sprint as fast as possible down the hallways of the Starkiller satellite. Safety. Home. Quiet. Complete and total isolation. All that you wanted was to escape—both from Kylo Ren's depraved anger and from yourself. Why had you run away so soon? Because he had frightened you? What kind of excuse was that when you could have at least accepted his apology. Or even if you hadn't accepted it, at least _acknowledged_ it. Why had your body told you to run when your brain had said to stay? Fight or flight had never seemed so real. Tears were still streaming down your face, and you swatted them away.

_Why did I run?_

Maybe because you _didn't deserve this—_ didn't deserve to be yelled to just because Kylo had gone off the deep end.

There was a stitch in your chest by the time that you reached your apartment, and you began to fumble for your electronic key with trembling fingers. Footsteps echoed down the hall, but they were so unlike the click of armoured Storm Troopers. It was barefoot running, which never seemed to happen on the base. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Kylo running after you, still without a shirt, without shoes, just in his loose black trousers. You cringed, dropping your ring of electronic keys to the floor.

Kylo stopped just a few steps from you, his chest heaving and arms to his sides as he waited for any indication from you that he could come closer. He remained absolutely silent as you picked up your keys and opened the lock on the door. As you stepped through the door, your shoulders slumped, and you nodded your head toward the door, giving him silent permission to enter.

Kylo followed you inside without saying a single word, but the Force Bond was buzzing with activity. Every emotion in his body was transferring into your mind, and you could feel his tears running down his cheeks. Your fingers brushed against your own skin. Damp. It was difficult to tell which of you was feeling what, but you at least knew that you were just as hurt, just as upset as he was. Without looking at him, you walked over to the kitchen table and leaned your elbows on the surface, staring forward at the kitchen cabinets for a moment before pressing your face into your hands so that you could process what had happened with the slightest bit of privacy.

“Never...” you began, voice as cold as ice. “ _Never_ do that to me again.  _Never_ raise your voice at me in such a way.”

“I won't.”

“You don't know that.”

Kylo swallowed a lump in his throat. You were right; he had no idea whether he would be able to control himself the next time that he was brought into violent anger. “But... I will  _not_ hurt you.  _That much_ I do know.”

Even  _that_ seemed to be a stretch of the measurement of his self-control, but you didn't press it further. Not now when something so much bigger seemed to loom over you.

“I'm sorry that I pressed the issue...” you sighed. “About your family. But I  _needed_ to know. And I would have appreciated having been told without you... Without you completely losing yourself on me!”

“I'm  _sorry_ .” Kylo's voice cracked, and he grabbed at his hair, hiding his face behind his forearms that had started to tremble. “You're the last person I want to hurt. The last person I want to scream at. You don't deserve...  _I_ don't deserve  _you_ .”

“It isn't so much that you don't  _deserve_ me,” you explained, finally pulling your head from your hands to face him. “But I don't deserve the pain you inadvertently inflict upon me.”

Finally, you were comfortable enough to walk over to him, and Kylo flinched when your fingertips were at his arms. You continued speaking as he hid his face. “And you don't deserve the shit you put yourself through.”

You gently pulled his arms forward so that they were at his sides, but he kept his face toward the ground. Lifting his chin, you could see the tears that had been smeared across his face and mixed with the blood from his busted knuckles. He didn't meet your eyes for a while, choosing to look away.

“Kylo, look at me.”

It took all of his strength to face you fully, and he let out one of those pained sighs that heaved through the chest after a long cry.

“Listen...” you said after gathering your thoughts. “I know that your past is a hell of a place, and you carry a heavy burden of hurt and hate and disappointment and anger. I knew it going in when I decided to allow myself to love you. And while you make things  _really fucking difficult_ sometimes, I still love you. You are the way you are, and I wish that I could fix some of that, but love doesn't cure everything.”

“I'm a mess...” he whispered.

“Yes. You are.”

“You've called me a 'human disaster' in your mind.” Kylo was so defeated as he spoke, as though he had completely accepted every terrible opinion of himself without fighting back. Years of harsh remarks and scoldings and angry shouts had filled him and stitched themselves to each and every cell.

“I  _have_ called you that,” you admitted. “But that doesn't negate that you are the person I care about most in this whole damned galaxy. And I want to see you happy. I want to see you without pain. If that means your happiness is going to come from righting the wrongs of Luke, then so be it. If you need to find him and set things in motion to make both the galaxy and yourself a little bit better, then I'll be here supporting you. But I expect...  _demand_ respect. You already know that I don't like to be kept in the dark, and now you know that I won't tolerate being yelled at—even if the cause is accidental as you give into your anger.

“I'm  _here_ for you. I'm here to listen. Here to help. Here sharing a Force Bond with you that brings us closer than I could have ever imagined between two people. If anyone is going to understand your past and present, then it's going to be me, and it's time that you acknowledge that.”

Kylo leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against yours, and his hands brushed up your arms and to you face. Every movement was still overly cautious and light as a feather. The precision of those touches left shivers in their wake. He was being so careful to not harm you or scare you away from him.

“I've done a lot of terrible things,” Kylo whispered. “And I'll do even worse. Can you stay by my side knowing this? Can you share a future with someone like me?”

A split second of a memory crossed the Bond, and you saw the still image of Kylo's parents as they stood on opposing sides of him, hands outstretched and mouths begging. His attention had focused on the man whom you figured was his father, and then the memory was gone like a wisp of smoke.

“I stepped onto this satellite as a neutral party in the middle of a war that I didn't understand,” you said, voice slow as you processed the memory that had carried to you. “But I'm not naïve enough to believe that the commander of an entire army—like yourself—can get through a war without committing atrocious acts.”

“This is more than a war between the First Order and Resistance. There will be things I have to do as I train in the Force... Things that will sicken you.”

A chill had run up your spine. Did the memory of his parents have anything to do with his training?

Once again, you were reminded that the hands pressed against your face had killed countless numbers of people in the midst of a galactic struggle between ideologies. First Order and Resistance. Light and Dark. He had chosen such precise sides in all of these battles and was willing to do whatever it took to see his beliefs come to fruition. There was an honour to his loyalty, and you weren't knowledgeable enough to know whether he stood at the right or wrong side. There may not even  _be_ a right or wrong. Just two different view points. Two different opinions that would fight and maim and kill to prove themselves correct.

It took you a while to answer him, and Kylo had begun to bite his lip as he waited impatiently.

“Just do what you know is right,” you answered. “And I will remain here. With you.”

You gave him a peck of a kiss and then stepped away before he could respond. Kylo watched as you wandered to the kitchen sink to wet a clean cloth with warm water.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” you sighed.

Kylo glanced down at the busted skin over his knuckles and frowned. “You don't have to.”

You shook your head and guided him over to the couch where Pickles was sitting, watching both of you with his bright green eyes. Kylo sat awkwardly on the edge and snapped his fingers to see if Pickles would come near. The cat cocked his head, gave a long stretch, and jumped off the couch to lay on the floor. You tried not to laugh at Pickles leaving him as you sat beside Kylo and started to clean the blood from his face and hand. He winced as the warm cloth ran over his knuckles to reveal broken tissue and the beginnings of a deep purple bruise.

“Usually I'm wearing gloves when I punch something,” he admitted after a hiss.

You began to wrap some gauze around his hand that had been left over from your arm. “Next time, punch a pillow. And then maybe scream in the corner instead of at me.”

Kylo leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “Next time, I should just kiss you so that I'm not yelling.”

“That would be preferable.”

He grinned for a moment and then pulled away his hand after you had secured the gauze. His longer fingers were held before him, and he flexed them in and out of a fist.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Those dark as night eyes were studying you now. He focused on both of your arms—one braced and the other wrapped up—and waves of pity and pride fought within him. Seeing you battered and bruised and injured had never been his intention, and he loathed Stratoveer with every fibre of his being for having hurt you. But then he recalled that it had been  _you_ to slay the bastard, and he couldn't have been more proud.

“I wish that I had been conscious to see you destroy him.” Kylo had seen Stratoveer's corpse. Or  _corpses_ , if the three separate body parts were all to be counted.

You shrugged, not really wanting to think about what had happened. There had been nothing satisfying about killing the man. His memory only haunted you. “I see him in nightmares. There was nothing worth watching.”

Kylo slowly nodded in understanding and wrapped his arm around your waist so that he could drag you onto his lap to lean against him. It must have been his favourite way to hold you, because you were starting to realise that you ended up leaning against his chest quite often—not that you minded. Though this time was different since your forehead was against his bare skin and ear pressed over his beating heart. You let your fingers slide down his chest and then travel up his side and back down his muscled arms. A line of goose flesh erupted from beneath your touch, and you could feel Kylo pull in a tiny gasp of breath.

You stopped, fingers flinching into the air as you questioned whether this was allowed. Regardless of how close you had become, Kylo still kept guarded, private. But his eyes flickered to meet yours, and his voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper.

“Don't stop.”

There was an unfamiliar vulnerability to Kylo as he allowed you to trace your fingers over his skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exposing the entirety of his throat. Tilting your chin up, you started to kiss along his collarbones. Your lips moved to the hollow of his throat and then up the tendons of his neck until you reached his jaw, and he sighed all the while as though he was relaxing for the first time in years.

Kylo lifted your chin further, bringing your lips to his. At first, his kisses were light. He tested you, checking your comfort level before kissing more passionately. Both of his hands were at your jaw, and his tongue had slipped past his teeth and to your lips. Each kiss sent a shiver rolling into your stomach, and you wanted more.

Or was it  _Kylo_ who wanted more?

It was too difficult to tell as the Force Bond grew stronger and connected your every feeling. Where did his thoughts begin and yours end? Were they one in the same? Not that it mattered, though. Both of you were greedy for more hands pressed to skin; for raw, graceless kisses; for tongues and teeth nibbling at lips.

You had been sitting on his lap with both legs stretched out on the couch, but now you moved so that you could face him and place either leg beside him, weight resting on your shins and knees. Kylo's hands swiftly withdrew from your jaw and leapt to your hips so that he could slide you forward and close in the gap between you. Any amount of space between you was too much in his opinion.

Kylo's hands moved up your sides and to your hair, and a gentle humming of the Force came into play as his hand circled around your head, pulling out every bobby pin that had kept your hair in place as though his hand was a magnet. He threw the pins to the floor and dug his fingers into your hair. Each finger was tangled between locks so that he could hold onto you for dear life. He was desperate for the warmth, for the smell of your hair that filled his nostrils as he gave sloppy kisses across your cheek and to your ear. His teeth nibbled at your earlobe for a moment before trailing down to your neck and sucking on the tender flesh beneath your jaw.

He was nearly gasping between kisses, his fingers trembling against the back of your head and shivers running up and down his spine. Even the slightest movement from you seemed to make him lose control. When you draped your arms over his shoulders to dig your nails into his back, you could feel his sharp inhale of surprise and pleasure. How quickly the master of the galaxy crumpled helplessly beneath your fingers.

Indeed, what a mess he was. Kylo's thoughts streamed unfiltered through your head, and they were just as frenzied as his kissing and sucking against your neck. You could hear snippets of spoken thought.  _Love. Need. More._ He was drowning in a sea of your body and mind, ripping through anything that would stop him from getting closer to your very soul. The intimacy was beyond anything that you had ever felt. Was it possible for two people to be closer? To share something more personal than both one another's bodies  _and_ minds?

Kylo had gone back to kissing your lips, exploring your mouth with his tongue, and his hands were now down at your thighs to pull your legs around his waist. He started to pick you up but paused for a moment, his mouth at your ear.

“May I?”

You could see well enough into his mind to know what he wanted, and you whispered back. “Yes.”

All at once, Kylo had lifted you high into the air as you kept kissing, and he manoeuvred blindly to your bed across the room. The moment that his knees touched the foot of the bed, he set you down onto your back and slid on top of you with a leg on each side. His fingers glided beneath your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head until he could throw it behind him to the floor.

He stared for a moment in disbelief that you were there before him, so exposed. You watched as he bit at his lower lip, eyes getting wider and more dilated with each passing second. Very carefully, he moved forward and lifted your back so that you were hovering over the mattress. The feel of his fingers at your bare skin sent rippling shivers down your spine and into the pit of your stomach. It was as if your entire body was falling with an impossibly heavy weight, dragging you and him both. Kylo felt the same thing—felt the pull to tangle himself into you and fall though space itself.

His fingers were at the clasp of your bra, and it came loose in his grasp. He tossed the bra more gently than your shirt, letting it slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor as he lowered you back to the bed.

The shock on his face was astounding. He was reverent at the sight of you like a man at worship. Your flesh was more valuable than gold. It was holy. His eyes flickered from your throat to your breasts to your stomach. He was taking in every single inch without knowing quite what to do with himself. It was as though he had never seen another human body before. The breath caught in his throat as his hands tenderly moved from your hips, across your stomach, and up toward your breasts.

You reached your hand to his face, cupping his cheek in your palm and letting your thumb rest on his lips. Those full lips of his curled into a smile, and he leaned forward to kiss you and press his chest to yours.

His hands were everywhere. Your hair, your throat, your hips. There was no flaw as he took you in—nothing that he didn't love and didn't yearn to feel.

_Masterpiece._ His voice was in your head.  _Beautiful_ .

You kicked off your shoes as Kylo spoke frantic, disordered poems through the Bond. He struggled for the vocabulary to describe you, to describe the fire burning through his veins as he pulled at your trousers and reached for more of you. Suddenly, you were completely bare beneath him, gasping and trying to control shaking fingers that still ran down his spine to feel each little knob of vertebrae. A pile of clothing was scattered across the floor as he ripped at the draw string of his trousers and kicked them away.

_Fire_ . Fire flooded from his blood to scorch you to the bone. Tangled legs, shaking arms, passionate mouths. All were on fire within one mind, one body. Awareness of your own body seemed to mesh into his. You knew that your fingers were digging into his arms, but you could simultaneously feel his own fingers as they clenched your hips, feel the curl of his toes, the heat building in every muscle. He was so susceptible, so open, so vulnerable and exposed.

“I love you,” he gasped, teeth having just pulled from your neck. There would be bruises, but you didn't care. He repeated himself through whispers and then was back to kissing down your neck and listening to every moan that left your lips.

Pressure was building, bodies sweating, panting, sighing cries. Kylo yelled your name, but it was so different from any of the yells that had escaped from him earlier in the day—a time that felt like centuries ago after so much time being twisted in bed sheets and blankets. It was a desperate, desirous call. Another moan of a yell followed, and then a whimper of your name as Kylo slumped forward.

He was panting, entire body shaking with the same rhythm as your own trembling. Lights had flooded your vision. Stars and galaxies exploded within microscopic neurons, all firing together in unison. Time stopped. Place was ethereal as you felt nothing but one another. All that existed was Kylo Ren and yourself and the fluttering, rapid beatings of your hearts.

Kylo's mouth had slowly moved to your shoulders to give sloppy, exhausted kisses, and he wrapped his arms around you. Twisting to his side, he brought you to his chest and threw one of the blankets over both of you. Then he reached for one of your pillows and tucked it beneath your head. His fingers were back at your hair, gently pulling strands from your forehead that had stuck to beads of sweat. He looked as tired as you felt, but there was a glow to his cheeks—a glow to his very being.

“I love you...” he sighed again and kissed a line from your forehead, to your nose, and down to your chin. “Completely and terrifyingly.”

You wrapped your legs around his own and closed your eyes whilst snuggling your face against his neck so that he could rest his chin on your head.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. The lids of your eyes felt so heavy, and he was so warm. You could have lied like that forever with him holding you and letting his fingers dance in lazy circles on your back.

The beating of his heart was steadily slowing, and his breathing no longer came as a series of gasps but as gentle inhales and exhales. It didn't matter that it was only the early afternoon, because the tides of sleep had taken Kylo within minutes. His grasp around you loosened. The Force Bond hummed with dreams of Light, swaying seamlessly between visions of passing stars and your own body. And in time, you drifted into the same sleep, sharing the same dreams.

For at least a little while, there was no Darkness. There was no struggling against powers that neither of you understood nor empathised with. No orders to kill. No spectres creeping through memories to invade your minds. There were only the two of you. And the rest of the universe? It could burn; it was inconsequential.

If this could only be an eternity, then you would welcome it—not with open arms, but with  _him_ . With  _Kylo_ in your arms to never let go.

* * *

**A/N:** lol.


	27. Rejecting the Null Hypothesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone pretends to return to their normal lives, but nothing is how it was as long held questions finally receive answers.

**Playlist:** [ Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_47_CHdzHI&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhY5FSxEBU9sIvYqXSg1egUb)

* * *

Dark lashes fluttered in the semi-dark, and Kylo Ren found his face pressed deep into your hair. He blew a strand from his lips and watched as it floated down to the rest of your tangles. Slowly, he became aware of his body. Lying on his right side, his left arm was wrapped around your middle so that he could keep you pressed against hi m , and his fingers tapped lightly at your stomach.  So soft. So warm. He was vaguely aware of anything else. Just your body pressed against his.

And apparently also Pickles', judging by the twitch of a paw against his back. So the  _cat_ thought that he would be the biggest spoon? Kylo's lips curled into a grin as Pickles adjusted and wrapped his  fat cat body around Kylo's butt and back. He had never been much of an animal lover, but he could get used to this.

Kylo shut his eyes again, wishing to be taken by sleep.  _Just once more; let me sleep here with her_ .  But he knew that begging wouldn't bring him back to those shared dreams—the fevered swirling patterns of light and stars that had inundated the Bond. No. There was no returning. Not now. His name was on the air.  _Ren._ It was being spoken with urgency, and he could hear it as though it had been whispered in his ear.

A crackling buzz came from the intercom at your door. A seldom used device, it was the first time that it had come to life in months. Kylo grimaced as he heard the voice on the other end.

“Ren, I know you're there.”

_Fucking General Hux_ .

“I have reports from no less than six Troopers that you were seen entering her apartment. So you can attempt to ignore me, but it won't work for long.”

Kylo's teeth clenched together, jaw aching. He could feel you stirring beneath his touch and hear you questioning the comm without fully understanding what was occurring.

“ _Shhh_ ,” he whispered into your ear.

“Who is it?” You tried to keep your voice low as  Hux's on the other end of the comm continued to speak.

“Hux.”

You rolled to your other side that you were facing Kylo. “Are you going to answer him?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Ren, I swear to the stars, I will personally drag you from her apartment if you do not answer me.”

“WHAT?” Kylo called out.

The static on the other end came through in little pops and cracks as Hux was silent for a few seconds.

“So... you  _are_ there.”

“Yes!” Kylo shouted. “What do you want?”

“I want  _you_ to be doing your job. We're meeting with  some captains  and lieutenants at central command. It's urgent.”

“Can it wait?”

“What part of  _urgent_ does not make sense to you, Ren?”

Kylo was grinding his teeth again, and his fingers dug into your upper arm as he tried to calm himself down. Stretching forward, you gave him a kiss.

“Relax,” you whispered as your hand brushed over his cheek in soothing circles.

“I'm trying,” he hissed.  _I don't want to leave you._

“I know.”

The intercom sputtered again. “REN.”

“I'M COMING, YOU  _INTOLERABLE_ NERFHERDER.”

You sputtered out a little laugh as Kylo begrudgingly pulled himself to sit on the edge of your bed. His bare back was to you as he pulled on his trousers that had been thrown  to the floor. The muscles beneath his pale, freckled skin rippled as he moved, and that familiar weight dropped through your stomach again. You didn't want him to leave, either, but so things were.

Kylo sat there for a moment, his hands in his messy, black hair. The intercom had shut off, leaving you both in near silence. The only sound came from the soft snores of Pickles who was now lying on his back in a valley of kicked away blankets.

“I wasn't wearing anything else when I came here...” Kylo mentioned after a few seconds. He turned to you with heat rising in his cheeks. Was he seriously to meet with Hux and the captains wearing nothing but a pair of baggy trousers and a head of messy sex hair?

You glanced over at one of your over-sized sweaters that had been thrown on your arm chair the day before. “You can see if that fits.”

Kylo was scratching at the back of his head as he walked across the room and tugged the green sweater over his head. It just barely fit. It may have been over-sized on you, but for him, it was slightly too small and tugged a little too tightly over his muscled arms. He walked leisurely back over to you, just containing his laughter at seeing you wrapped in the blankets and looking equally as dishevelled as himself.

“I already miss you,” he mentioned. Crawling over the blankets, he took your head into his hands and kissed you, slow and hungry. He never wanted to pull away; he'd miss your warmth, your touch. And yet he forced himself to stand back up and move toward the door with you following behind,  all wrapped in the duvet cover.

You watched as he started to walk down the hallway to central command—still barefoot and with messy hair. All the while, you could hear his thoughts of slight embarrassment but simultaneous immense pride. Kylo Ren was feeling pretty damned pleased with his walk of shame, but who could blame him?

After he had left, you meandered into your bathroom to peer into the mirror. The speckled pink bruises from Kylo's mouth had covered your neck in a line from your jaw, all the way down to your collarbones. They weren't painful—not like the bruises that you had sustained after he had accidentally choked you all those months before. The difference between those purple marks caused by an angry grip versus the bruises of a lover were staggering in nature. Somehow, blood pooling shallowly beneath the flesh could give away more intentions than a thousand words.

The mirror showed all. Bruises from Kylo's teeth and  suckling . The messy hair. Lips full from kissing. There was nothing to hide, and you giggled as Pickles rubbed up against your bare legs with a chirp. Stupid, silly, little cat. He had no idea what he had witnessed.

You showered and dressed, making sure to wear a chunky scarf to hide your neck. Kylo may have walked down the hall with every sign of the afternoon's affair in full display, but you would be  _slightly_ more subtle.  The bruises were a badge of honour, but you would admire them in private.

The Force hummed in the air as you stepped down the hall and toward the cafeteria. You were absolutely ravenous, and from the blips of information going through the Bond, you could tell that Kylo was as well. And that didn't bode well, considering that whatever news Hux had to deliver to Kylo was apparently not the best. He was torn—both angry and pleased all at once. You knew that it had something to do with the map from the pieces you were receiving, but aside from that, you would have to wait for his debriefing. Riding the waves of his emotions seemed to be the default of the Bond, and you took a deep, steadying breath in. Maybe Kylo would be paying attention; maybe he would feel the air in his lungs and the second of relief.

Or maybe he would start yelling at Hux. Either one.

You had made it into the cafeteria just in time to catch Talia and Phasma finishing their supper. The table seemed so empty with only two of them there. Phasma was somewhat quieter than usual but no longer as sullen as she had seemed the days before. Seeing Amena that morning on the Base had certainly cheered her up.

“She's doing all right,” Phasma commented as you ate your dinner. “A long road ahead of her if she wants to walk again, but she's determined.”

You were fairly sure that Phasma was just as determined to see Amena well, if not more so. Phasma gave you the updates that she had been telling Talia earlier, and Talia poked around at her leftover food.

“By the way,” Talia interrupted. “You know your files are done processing, right? The ones you had running all day? They finished like two hours ago. Where were you?”

Your eyes went wide. You had forgotten all about your work.

“Shit, that's right!”

Talia raised an eyebrow. “That didn't answer my last question.”

“Doesn't matter,” you replied. Shovelling down your food as quickly as possible, you gave a quick goodbye and ran down to your office at top speed.

You just about ran into the glass door on your way inside and scurried over to your computer monitor. Waking it from sleep mode, you could see that the programme had finished comparing the neuroimages of the Troopers and Talia's brain slices to a database of Frontal Temporal Dementia patients and post-mortem specimens as well as recent concussion patients. Row after row after row of numbers filled the screen. Standard deviation, means, ranges, sample s izes ... None of those numbers were what you were after. There was just one that your eyes scanned for.

_The p-value_ .

Displaying at p <.001 was the beloved p-value, which would indicate whether or not all of your research was on the right track.

_Less than .001._

Your fingers had begun to tremble as you scrolled through more of the statistics. Another p-value had showed up. Also at p <.001.

“This is it...” you muttered to yourself.

You hit at an intercom button on your desk and tapped out the code for Phasma's comm. Surely she would still be at dinner with Talia.

“This is Captain Phasma speaking...”

“Phasma, get Talia. She has to see this. I'm in the office.” Your voice was rushed, and you remembered what Hux had said over the comm in your own apartment. “It's urgent.”

You didn't tell them why to come. It never even occurred to you that they thought that some kind of emergency was happening again, which sent both Phasma and Talia sprinting into the office, fearing the worst. And really, you didn't notice the look of mild frustration on Phasma's face as you pointed to Talia and then to your monitor.

“Talia... It's the concussions.”

She gave you an incredulous glance, eyebrows drawing together. “What...?”

“It's the concussions!” you yelled out, finger jabbing at the monitor. “The concussions are the cause! Look at this. The damage is lining up  _beautifully_ with the concussion patients but shows progression as though it continued into FTD. It's something completely new, but it's the concussions! We have a cause!”

Talia was leaning over your shoulder and reading through the data, her hazel eyes twitching back and forth. “Are you sure?”

“It's statistically significant. Talia—it's the answer.”

“What's the p-value?”

You grinned like a kid in a candy store. “ Less than  .001.”

“No shit...” she whispered, her jaw dropping. Soon, she was smiling just as idiotically as you were.

All the while, Phasma was still in the doorway with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as she tried to figure out why exactly the two of you were beginning to celebrate. “I can see that this is good news, but I otherwise do not understand. What does this mean?”

Talia turned to Phasma, so excited that she was nearly jumping. “A p-value of .001 means that there is only  _one_ chance in a  _thousand_ that we're wrong. The Troopers' scans are being translated into numerical code and matching the code of the concussion scans, so it's like absolutely fucking definitive that the concussions are causing everything. Just concussions over a long period of time. Repeat concussions!  Holy shit, you were right about the concussions! ”

Her voice had risen to new highs, and Talia bumped you out of the way so that she could scan through more of the statistical analysis that covered your monitor.

You stepped over to Phasma, equally as excited but not willing to show it as enthusiastically as Talia. “The damage is somewhat similar to other dementias but with unique aspects of post-concussion syndrome. I know this probably makes little sense, but Phasma, this is it. Just one number  confirms it , and we now know what is wrong with the Troopers. They're sustaining permanent brain trauma as a result of the concussions they sustain whilst fighting.”

Phasma gave a confused nod, still not quite understanding but feeling very happy for the two of you. Bless her, at least she was supportive of all you idiots on board.

Talia was still grinning at the data and tapping at her lips. “You know what this calls for?” She flitted over to her desk and began to rummage through a box. From beneath piles of old junk came a bottle of whiskey. “Victory shots!”

She plucked three beakers from the shelf above her desk—all suspiciously close to the floating brains in their chemical baths—and she began to pour a shot into each of them. Handing a beaker to both you and Phasma, she raised her own. “TO SCIENCE.” Her beaker clinked against yours, and she gulped down the shot in one go.

You drained yours as well, feeling the fire roll down your throat.  The whiskey was awful and had just the slightest hint of formaldehyde to the after taste. But at that moment, it was hard to care about Talia's questionable whiskey when over six months of research had finally paid off with significant results.

“To science,”  you repeated as Talia poured herself another shot. “To science.”

* * *

It shouldn't have surprised you to see Kylo lounging on your couch when you returned to your apartment that night. He was still wearing your sweater and had begun flipping through one of your books—an old collection of war stories that you had read a decade before and cried over at three in the morning in your dorm as your roommate laughed at your  expense . You curled up beside him and let him wrap his arm around you.  He set the book down on the floor and unwrapped the scarf from your neck so that he could inspect the bruises that he had left earlier in the day .

“What did Hux need?” you asked.

Kylo sighed  and let his fingers leave your neck. “We're leaving for the planet Jakku in the morning. A spy brought in evidence that the map piece is being held by a man there... An old friend of Luke Skywalker... And my mother.”

“You never mention your mother,” you commented. “But I've seen her in your thoughts.” You had seen her brown hair all twisted and plaited around her head as she reached out for her son. She was beautiful and as strong as a boulder beneath a waterfall  who  somehow  never crac ked whilst under all the stress of the universe.

Kylo grimaced and redirected your conversation. Apparently that was another sore spot that didn't need to be brought up. “I was going to ask if you would come with me.”

Now  _that_ was rather shocking.

“It doesn't have to be now,” he added after seeing your surprise. “Or even ever. But it's at least my hope. I want you with me... Want to know that you're still real.” He leaned in to kiss you, and his lips hovered over yours. “ _Need_ to know that I can feel you, that you're mine.”

That possessive spark was in his eyes. Needy, desperate, but not dangerous.  _Strangely_ not dangerous. For such a violent, angry man, he could certainly look pathetic some times.

“You 'd call me 'possessive'?” he asked, clearly hearing into your mind.

“Not necessarily in a bad way,” you defended. “'Protective' may be a better word at times.”

“Snoke has said similar things about me.” He kissed you again, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth. “But he thought that I merely wanted to own your body. He's... very sure of himself. Very sure of what I want and my abilities; he's almost always correct. However, he didn't anticipate that I would want more and that I'd be so damned attracted to your mind and soul and whatever in the hell else makes up who you are. He never thought that I would love you—that I  _could_ love you.”

“Does he know?” you asked between kisses.

“That I love you? I haven't felt the need to tell him. Not yet.”

“He wouldn't approve.” It wasn't a question.

Kylo stopped for a moment and swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. “It's more complicated than that.”

The Force Bond seemed to snap for a moment, and he built up that brick wall so that nothing could get through. Why did he have to do that and close you off? You frowned and began to pull away. Kylo let you and sat up on the couch. He stared off in heavy concentration, eyes seeing far past the walls of your apartment.

“You're kept safer not knowing what Snoke has planned for me and anyone I have ever... or  _do_ ... love.”

It wasn't the answer that you had wanted, but after having seen Snoke up close and personal just a couple weeks before, you understood the fear that he could cast into a person. Even Kylo Ren—the master of the Knights of Ren and commander of the First Order—was not immune to fearing Snoke.

“You're also simply kept safer by me,” Kylo continued. “Things will change soon. This war... you can  _feel_ it. Even without the Force, I know that you sense it bubbling to the surface. Tensions are building with every step closer to the map. The Resistance won't stand for me finding it so long as their ties to Luke remain intact. They don't know where he is, either, but they will remain his allies. It's blood. Family.”

You were still sitting beside him on the couch, your knees brought up to your chest and arms wrapped around your legs. “Your uncle is allied with the Resistance  _and_ the Light side of the Force... But he's not your only family involved with this?” Suddenly, your heart was beating faster, pulse thumping painfully against the stitches in your arm. “Kylo... you mentioned your mother. Who is she?”

He still stared off, but his hands had started to grip at the couch, fingers digging into the cushion. “Leia.”

Your eyes went wide. You knew that name.  _Everyone_ knew that name. “...Organa. Kylo, no!”

He nodded without looking over at you. “General Leia Organa... the leader of the Resistance. She's my mother.”  _Was_ . That single word slipped through and bounced around your head.

You leaned back into the couch, trying to process what this meant. It had been a long time since your last history class, but the accomplishments of Leia Organa were well known across the entire galaxy. You didn't need to remember the specifics to know that she was a  _big deal_ .

“Maybe that's why the name Luke Skywalker sounded so familiar...”  You must have read the name at some point.

“They're twins.”

“And you want to kill them?”

He grimaced, and his fingers turned white against the couch cushion. “I'll kill anyone who stands in my way. You know that. By this point, I think they would do the same.”

More puzzle pieces were falling into place, and your stomach quaked. “And they... Your grandfather...” There  w as no way, and yet... You knew who the very famous father of Leia Organa was. Your history education hadn't  _completely_ failed you.

“Darth Vader,” Kylo answered, filling in the blanks for you. The words didn't sting his lips like they would have for you. It was a hard pill to swallow, but the mystery was solved. All in one day, every question that had plagued you for months had been answered—the Troopers, Kylo's family... It was all so obvious now that you had all of the details.

“The entire galaxy is being ripped apart by one family's war,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Essentially.” Kylo finally ripped his gaze from the wall and within miles of memories, and he stared you dead in the face. “ This is what you're tangled in, but  I won't make you choose a side.”

“I've  _already_ chosen. It's not a side in this cosmic war but a person.  _You_ . I'll protect you. I'll defend you.”

“And yet  you'll attempt to  remain neutral? Remain  _Grey_ ? It won't last.”

“I'll try.”

“Then you' d be stronger than I,” he scoffed.

You huffed out a sigh and squeezed at Kylo's hand that was nearly ripping your couch. Both of you sat in silence for a minute, neither of you wanting this to escalate like the yelling match from that morning. God, it seemed like decades ago instead of hours when he had been screaming. Now you understood why. There was more than Light and Dark, more than the First Order and Resistance. This was family. This was down to the blood in his v eins .

“So...” you began, voice kept calm, quiet. “You really think that this war is going to get out of control?”

“Yes.” He sighed and pulled you into his lap. “The entire Starkiller Base will be a target for attack. There will be no safety here. Or anywhere,  really .”

“But there will be more safety if I'm with you? On the command ship?” What was it called again?  _The Finalizer_ ? You had seen the monstrous ship hovering by the Base under Hux's control.

“There would be no place safer;  you would stay in my quarters and have access to escape pods if things fell apart . And you could continue your research there—whatever amount that you have left.”

You shrugged and leaned the back of your head against his shoulder. “I've figured out the main mystery... I suppose I could watch the Troopers at work and see how to reduce their risk of concussion...”

Kylo's fingers were in your hair, pulling strands from another. You were trying to work through plans and possibilities as Pickles jumped onto your lap and rubbed his little face into Kylo's hand, begging for a scratch.

“I won't be able to take him with me, will I?” you asked. All at once, there was a sting in your eyes as Pickles started to purr.

“It would be difficult.  A war zone is no place for people—much less a pet. ”

“And Talia and the rest of the research team won't be around to feed him  here —they're all going to the Base for the next few weeks to do cognitive assessments and physical exams.”

Kylo scratched at the cat's ears whilst thinking through what to do. “Do you have any friends from that academic planet of yours?  Someone to take him for a while?”

“A roommate from a few years ago. I could ask her,  but there are no guarantees .”

“Do it.” His voice was firm, and Pickles looked up with his bright eyes as if he knew exactly what you were talking about. “If you value him—which I know you do—then place him somewhere safe.”

A tightness rested in your throat, burning up through your sinuses and into your eyes as tears pooled. “So I'll go with you...” you began whilst trying to fight back the urge to cry. “And Pickles will go somewhere else. And the war will begin.”

“If I get that map, then total war may be avoided, but the battles have already begun. The entire Starkiller Base is prepared for war.” You didn't know the exact details, but you knew from Hux that the planetary base was a weapon in and of itself. It was the general's most prized accomplishment—the most precious thing in his life. Nothing else compared. He would choose it over  even  Talia in a heartbeat.

Kylo held onto you as tight as possible and nuzzled his face into your neck. His mouth was back at the red and purple bruises, and he kissed each mark.

“Nothing is the same...” you sighed.

“It never is,” Kylo replied between kisses. “But that's not  _all_ bad.” He lowered you to the couch, and Pickles leapt to the  arm chair nearby once Kylo started to climb on top of you. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he started to plant rough kisses on your collarbone and the hollow of your  throat , biting every now and then as his tongue moved lower  towards  the  neckline of your shirt.

“Yes,” he sighed with his mouth against your shoulder. His hands were trailing down from your hair and slipping under your shirt. “Not all bad.”

* * *

If there had been an atmosphere around the planetary satellite, then the morning sun would have been shining through the viewport. But as it stood, there was the utterly blank canvas of space outside and the tiny splattering of stars. Kylo had left shortly before along with General Hux and Captain Phasma, and you sat at the scarcely used desk in your apartment. You had managed to pull out an old vidscreen to connect with an existing intercom system, and it slowly hummed into life.

Your fingers tapped out a long string of numbers. It was hard to believe that you could still remember each digit. How long had it been since you had last called her? Two years? Something like that. But muscle memory spr a ng to life  as though it had been a day .  _9-00-567-375-1001-3..._

“Please pick up...” you muttered as the transmission went through. A minute passed, and your legs were impatiently jumping up and down whilst seated. No answer.

Just as you were about to end the comm, the screen flashed, and a woman's face appeared. She was pretty, with round cheeks and slanted, almond eyes. Her black hair was in a messy plait that had been pressed to her scalp by a pilot's helmet. The expression she wore for you was familiar and yet honestly concerned and confused.

You took a deep breath and gave a little wave.

“Hey Jessika. It's me,” you began. “I know it's been a long time, but... I've got a favour to ask.”

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter delves into statistics, which I was going to cover in the glossary, but it became too long. So please check **[THIS POST](http://starkillerscience.tumblr.com/post/139613556891/crash-course-in-statistics)** for more information about statistics, p-values, hypotheses, etc.

Talia's reaction to taking shots to science comes directly from my former roommate during our undergraduate coursework. We finished a semester long research study where we forced freshmen to drink various Koolaids under social influences, so we celebrated with shots of Koolaid once our research paper was written. (Her shots may have also been whiskey.) TO SCIENCE!

If you guys are interested, the book that Kylo is reading is [_The Things They Carried_](http://www.amazon.com/Things-They-Carried-Tim-OBrien/dp/0618706410/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1455917442&sr=8-1&keywords=the+things+they+carried+tim+obrien) by Tim O'Brien, which is fucking devastating in its portrayal of the Vietnam War. I feel like every time that I have Kylo or the reader with a book, I need to tell you guys what it's based off of.


	28. Resistance Pilots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pickles finds a new home, which crushes you but is most likely for the best. Meanwhile, the war between the Resistance and the First Order escalates as Kylo Ren captures the best damn pilot in the galaxy.

**Playlists:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhDnyPsQsB0&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhbTfrzoGsHzpGa18CaX1d-t)

* * *

“What kind of favour?”

Jessika Pava was dressed in an orange pilot's suit that had been unzipped with the sleeves tied around her waist, revealing a white tank top and metal dog tags on a long chain. She had already been up for hours with little rest if the purple beneath her eyes was any indication, but she was fully alert.

“You remember that cat we saved?”

She perked up. “The grey and white one? Pickles? Yeah. Yeah, he was the one we found under Braelynn's front porch, right? Oh man, please don't tell me that something bad happened to him.”

“No, no, no!” you assured. “He's fine. I'm fine. More or less. But things are... getting _heated_ where I am, and I want to find a safe place for Pickles. Honestly, you were the only one I could think of.”

“Me? We haven't spoken in... what? Two years? But I feel kind of honoured.”

“Yeah... It's been a really, really long time. But you were the best roommate I ever had. And I guess the best friend, too.”

Jessika smiled. “I could say the same about you. We had some fun at university. Even if you _were_ a total nerd.”

All of the years that you lived together felt like a blip on the surface of your life. Had you really lived together for _seven_ years? It felt like such a short time after everything that happened over the past several months.

“By the way,” Jessika mentioned. She seemed to be looking over your shoulder and scanning the apartment behind you. “Where are you? I heard that you had taken a job away from the university, but things got busy, and I never heard anything else.”

You started to look at Jessika's room as well, which appeared to be a military bunker. “Better question, where are _you_? Did you finally get that fighter pilot job you'd wanted?”

She nodded and leaned in toward the camera. “You wouldn't believe it, but I got hired a year ago. I'm piloting an X-wing!”

“An X-wing?” Your terminology of ships was rather poor.

“You know.” Her voice went soft and fell into a hushed whisper as she checked that no one was around to hear her. “With the Resistance.”

The blood in your ears started to pound with your heartbeat. _The Resistance?_ No. You begged that you had misheard her, but there was no chance that you had. “You're... what?”

“You didn't hear? I've been piloting under _General Organa_. Can you believe that?” She seemed rather ecstatic about her position. There was a pride in her eyes that you remembered from when she would pass top exams at the university's specialised academy. She had always been damned good at mechanics and piloting; it was no wonder that she would get hired so soon after finishing her training. And now she worked for Leia. _Leia Organa._ The general of the entire Resistance. The mother of Kylo Ren.

Your face had fallen with the news, which Jessika noticed right away.

“What? I mean, yeah, it's dangerous. But that's not exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

“Jessika, I'm... I'm happy for you. But I have to be honest...”

“Let me guess: you've sided with the New Republic? Those guys have _no_ understanding for what General Organa is going through right now. They--”

“No, Jessika,” you interrupted. It was a lot worse than having sided with the New Republic. “I'm... My contract is with the First Order.”

Jessika went completely silent. “You're kidding me, right?”

You shook your head and sighed before putting your face into your hands.

“You... You took a job with the _First Order_? _Those_ genocidal maniacs? Are you _crazy_?! Do you have _any_ idea what they're planning? What they've already done?”

Your hands ran down your face, pulling at your cheeks. “I'm in a really tough spot right now, Jess.”

“Yeah, obviously! You sided with literally the worst people in the galaxy.”

“I didn't _side_ with them. I took on a research position as a neutral party.”

“And how neutral are you now?”

“Fuck,” you groaned. Kylo's face was in your mind, his mouth moving down your neck.

“Not very neutral, huh?” she asked.

“I've tried to stay out of politics and just focus on the people who need my help.”

“How noble,” Jessika scoffed. “I shouldn't even be talking to you right now. You realise that, right?”

You nodded.

“You know... When I saw that you were calling, I kind of hoped that you were wanting to reconnect or something, and I was looking forward to it because life has been really crazy, and I'm constantly putting myself on the line. I thought that _maybe_ you sensed that. You were always _so good_ at knowing what everyone was going through and what we were thinking. Like, maybe you knew that I needed someone to talk to. But I can't say this is what I was expecting at all. Not from you, at least. Weren't you only ever interested in science? What happened?”

“And that's what I'm doing. Science.”

She groaned and checked over her shoulder again to make sure that nobody was around. “You remember Poe from university?”

 _Poe._ That name sounded familiar. “Your pilot friend? He was the one who joined us for the Science and Tech awards a few years back, right? I remember.”

“Well, I think you should know that he's out risking his life right now for the Resistance as our best pilot. And the people you're working for would like to see him dead. _Dead_. I just want that to sink in.”

You swallowed hard. God, you felt like a bitch. Like a complete and total wreck of a person who didn't deserve the air you breathed. “Jess... I'm so sorry.”

“You should be.”

“But this isn't about me. This is about Pickles.”

Upon hearing his name uttered, Pickles leapt to the desk and rubbed his face against your hand. Half of the vidscreen was now taken up with his body as he sat down and began to clean himself.

Jessika leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I'm just really disappointed.”

“I know.”

“And if I'd known, I wouldn't have picked up your call. This puts my entire fleet at risk.”

“I know,” you repeated, feeling pretty defeated.

“But if you're working for the First Order, then I understand what you mean by things 'heating up'. I mean, not to brag, but I'm definitely bringing some of that heat.” She flipped her messy plait dramatically but went right back into her serious speech. “And Pickles doesn't really deserve to be caught up in your mess.”

You nodded again, face hidden in your hands, and Jessika continued. “So here's the deal. I'll take him. I'm not really sure _where_ I'll put him, but I'm high up enough in the ranks that I can probably pull some strings.” She tugged at her hair, loosening the plait and thinking for a minute. “When do you need him to leave?”

“As soon as possible. Today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“Okay...” she sighed. “Here's what you need to do. There's a planet called Eriadu. Big trading post kind of planet and completely neutral in its capitol. Troopers and Resistance _both_ do business there. I have a friend heading there tomorrow. If you can get Pickles and all his stuff on a transport with some Troopers there, I can arrange for him to be picked up.”

You shook your head. “Thank you so much, Jessika.”

“I'm not finished yet,” she interjected. She was angry, nervous. She had always played by the rules, and this _hurt_ her. “You get Pickles to be dropped off at Market #67 in Eriadu City—by the fountain in the courtyard. Are you writing this down?”

You pulled out a datapad and started to jot down what she was saying. “Yes, yes.”

“Good. And you don't tell a single soul about this. _No one._ Especially not anyone in the First Order.”

Too late on that one, considering that Kylo Ren knew _exactly_ what you were planning. Of all the fucking people you had to be dating, it was the _commander_ of the First Order. The biggest enemy of the Resistance that there was.

“How can I ever thank you?” you asked. Pickles was sniffing at the camera and blocking your view of Jessika on the screen, but you could hear her let out a flustered groan.

“You can leave the First Order, for starters. Come to your senses, you know?”

“Yeah, easier said than done.”

She ignored that. “And you can call me again—but only if it's an absolute emergency. You got that?”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, idiot.”

The screen flashed to black. You held onto Pickles for a minute, letting him put his front paws and head over your shoulder as you patted his back. Tears were welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks within seconds. How in the hell had you managed to land in this position? In the middle of a war where you would need to give up the closest thing you had to family? Where you would be in love with a man who was possibly the biggest war criminal and murderer in the galaxy? How in the ever living _hell_ had this happened?

Pickles sniffed at the tears on your cheek and gave a little lick before looking back over your shoulder and purring. He had no idea of just how horribly far you had fallen. And he probably never _would_ know.

* * *

Later that day, you found yourself on a small carrier with seven Storm Troopers and a bag packed full of your most important belongings, save for one. The very most important was on another ship, crossing to the other side of the galaxy to be picked up by Jessika Pava's friend, Samson. You had silently cried for hours since having said goodbye to Pickles, but there was a feeling in your gut that told you it was the right decision. He wasn't safe, and he never would be so long as you were with the First Order. Because _you_ weren't safe. Danger was ever present, like a pollution that had leached through your lungs and into your bloodstream until it could attach to the bone.

The Troopers had mostly ignored you on the flight. You didn't know any of them. None of them were that FN-whatever Trooper with the scuff on his armour. Now would have been a great time for him to show up again, but he had been moved out of training and onto the _Finalizer_ with Captain Phasma.

The ship took a few hours to get near Jakku before it stopped off at the massive carrier's hanger to drop you and a couple of the Troopers off. Dragging yourself down the ramp with your bag took so much energy, and you wanted... no, _needed_ , to collapse into a bed. Any bed. So that you could cry into a pillow for a little while at how shitty of a person you had become. And seeing Kylo would be nice, too, though you could tell from how weak the Force Bond was that he wasn't on board at the moment. According to the docking schedule for the hanger, he had just recently left for the surface of Jakku along with four other carriers full of Troopers.

You meandered past the rows of TIE Fighters until you saw a series of hallways leading away from the hangers. Where you were headed, you didn't really know, but it didn't take you all that long before you reached a busy intersection within the carrier. Troopers and personnel were running by in a constant stream of chaos, and you stood on the edges, looking out blankly. Your mind felt miles away. Maybe it was with Pickles. Maybe it was with Kylo. It was difficult to tell. But you stayed there for a while without paying any attention. If it hadn't been for a hand at your shoulder, you may have been there for hours.

“You made it aboard, Doctor.” Hux was standing beside you, appearing stressed as ever but slightly relieved to see you. “Ren informed me of your decision... about your cat.” He was staring forward with you, watching the Troopers go by. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks...” Supposedly, he had his own pet cat on the Starkiller Base, though he never spoke about her. You had only heard from Talia that the cat even existed. Still, his sympathy was appreciated.

He gave you a tap on your arm and motioned for you to follow him down a narrow corridor. “Ren has asked that you be admitted to his quarters, though I understand if you would like your own private bunker.”

“It'll be fine.” Honestly, so long as there was a place for you sleep, you'd take it.

Hux didn't bother speaking; he was observant enough to tell that you were emotionally drained, so he led you to Kylo Ren's room and handed you an electronic key. “I'm going to be busy over the next few days. Very, _very_ busy. A prized weapon is due to be unveiled on the Base, and I'll have my hands tied. However, if you need _anything_ , then I will see it done.”

He was about to leave you at the door but paused for a moment. Something conflicted crossed his eyes, and without much warning, he reached forward to give you an awkward hug. His arms reached fully around you without actually squeezing, and you surprised him by wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him as hard as you could. He made a slight struggling noise but relaxed and gave you a slow pat on the back. You pulled away without looking at him and turned to the door.

“Will you let Kylo know that I'm here?” you asked as the door slid open.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

The door closed behind you, and you threw your bag to the floor and made a b-line to the large bed in the centre of the room. Whatever else was in the room didn't matter. There could have been someone hiding in plain sight, and you wouldn't have noticed. Not now when everything was falling apart. When everything was changing. You crashed face first onto the bed, and within a minute was lost to sleep.

* * *

Yet another hand was at your shoulder, and you blinked into the absolute darkness. You didn't see him, but he was there. Kylo was there on the bed with a gloved hand rubbing softly against your arm.

His warm breath was against your ear, whispering. “I felt you crying.”

_It's been a long day._

“Yes. It has been.”

Smoke and metal shrapnel clung to his hood along with the faint smell of iron-rich blood. How many people had he just killed? What had he done? What had burned? You looked into his mind to see the face of an elderly man who stood tall even as a red sabre tore through to cleave him into two. Fire burned through thatched huts and homes in the night, and blasters shot into the dark to the sound of screams.

“How quickly before we're at war?” you asked.

“We already are.” Kylo slowly stood and adjusted his helmet over his head, voice suddenly lower, full of cold static. “I will be interrogating a Resistance pilot in a few minutes, but I had wanted to see you first.”

“Promise me you won't kill them, okay?” For all you knew, it could be Jessika in there.

Kylo remained silent. _I can't make any promises..._

Something about that didn't surprise you. Rolling over to your side, you stared into the dark at the room's viewport where pinpricks of stars sparkled. Behind you, the door opened and closed with Kylo's cloak whooshing behind him. Then, it was just you. Just silence and darkness and the thoughts of Pickles probably shitting himself whilst crying into the night.

* * *

A few more hours of sleep passed before you were rudely awoken. It wasn't by another touch but with Kylo's searing rage that had blasted through the Bond. You nearly fell out of the bed with the force of it. Ears ringing and fingers turning white, you could actually _feel_ his sabre in hand. You could feel the Force passing through his fingers and into another. Could see into someone else's mind—not Kylo's, but a man's. A Resistance pilot. Flashes of a droid, a map, desert, an aged Leia Organa—all of it was tunneling through Kylo's mind and into yours. And the man... he seemed so familiar. You reached out your hand as though _you_ were the one interrogating him, and you could feel his blood flowing, could feel his pain and fear and stubborn resistance.

Resistance.

Resistance pilot, so familiar but so much older than you had remembered.

The image of Jessika passed through your vision, but it wasn't what you remembered of her, either. It wasn't the grainy view on a vidscreen nor the memories of your university days. She was in her pilot's uniform and giving the man a high five and friendly hug. And then her face was gone, replaced in turn by Leia's once again. The grey in her hair was sharper, more vibrant, than what had been in Kylo's memories. She was older. This was a _recent_ memory. And then Kylo redirected the Force, and you saw a small data drive get placed inside of an orange and white droid. The droid let out a series of alarmed beeps before rolling swiftly across a dune and out of sight.

Your breathing had grown heavy, and the fingers in your right hand were buckling at the joints with the pressure of exerting all of these memories from the man's mind. You looked through the narrow slit of a helmet, could feel your breath—Kylo's breath—pressed humidly against the metal. Were you yourself? Were you Kylo Ren? Were you the pilot? This strangely familiar, suffering pilot?

Like a flash of lightning, you saw his face as he gritted his teeth and then roared out a scream, and his mind was a swimming mess of tangled neurons, all firing angrily into the dark under Kylo Ren's control. The power was beyond anything that you had felt as the Force flowed through your hand, and with the flash, it was gone, replaced with darkness.

You fell to the floor in a tangled heap, gasping for air as your fingers clutched into your thighs so hard that you were sure bruises would appear to match the ones on your neck. But it wasn't the Force that had terrified you and sent you to the ground. Sure, it had physically knocked you down, but the horror that was coursing through your veins was from a name that had spat from your lips as you fell.

_Poe. Poe Dameron._

It wasn't Jessika whom Kylo had captured at all. It was Poe Dameron.


	29. Stormpilot Escapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is accustomed to taking what he wants from the minds of others, but you stand in the way of his plans. He tries to convince you of Poe’s guilt against the First Order, but even Kylo’s moral compass can be swayed. Meanwhile, FN-2187 has plans of his own during a daring rescue that places you in the line of fire.

**Playlist:**  [Youtube](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DSgNvWfCMMh0%26index%3D1%26list%3DPL0PGmOE0GuhafEfW6hTeXIsB6VfrMmsPD&t=MzMxNjUzYzhjOTZkODE4Nzc2ZTI5MzkxMjM3NjJkZTllMmQxZGNjNyx6NkVQRG9hOA%3D%3D)

* * *

 

The Force was still coursing through your veins as you left Kylo Ren's quarters and headed down the hall. It didn't matter that you had never been on the _Finalizer_ before, but you _knew_ where Kylo was. A map had built itself into your head, and you were running on shaky legs toward the interrogation room. Dear God, he was torturing Poe. He was digging violently through the brain of someone you actually _knew_. Someone you had spent time with years ago but remembered. You could see his goofy smile and the wrinkles around his eyes and the mop of thick, dark, curly hair that seemed to always flop over his face. Poe. Poe Dameron—the Resistance pilot who was friends with Jessika and under General Leia Organa's orders and being bloodied by your lover.

This situation could not possibly get worse, or so you believed.

You rounded yet another plate metal hallway and paused in front of a set of double doors that were sealed shut. On just the other side was Kylo Ren and Poe. Kylo was pacing in circles, enjoying the feeling of Poe pass in and out of consciousness. What a delightful feeling that flooded through him and thus into you at seeing the pilot's suffering. It was so easy. So _incredibly_ easy to get the information that he wanted.

_Kylo! Don't kill him!_

He stopped pacing for a moment and held up his hand to Poe. As the man screamed, Kylo cut off the blood supply to his brain just long enough to make him pass out. The double doors opened, and he walked straight toward you.

Your heart was beating painfully against your ribs, and you wished that you could calm down. But everything that Kylo felt was within you. Drunk on power and rage, he backed you against the wall, his arms on either side of you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked through the voice distorter. It didn't mask his surprise nor anger at seeing you so close to his enemy.

“Don't kill him,” you begged. “I _know_ him!”

Kylo glanced toward the doors that had slid shut and locked. “The Resistance pilot?”

“Poe! Yes. _Please_ don't hurt him any more!”

“How do you know him?”

It was such a long story; you couldn't possibly fully explain. You hadn't seen Poe Dameron in nearly a decade, but he had been such a strong part of Jessika's life that he felt like your own friend in that moment. “It was a few years ago, but he studied at my university. He was best friends with my roommate, but that doesn't matter; I really shouldn't have to explain to you how I know him for you to not do this. You _can't_ kill him!”

Kylo grabbed at your wrist and started to walk briskly down the hall, and you ran to keep up. “He has the map to Luke Skywalker... _Had_. He is currently the worst of our enemies, and you would want him to _live_?” He was furious. “Never.”

You ripped your hand from his grasp. “If you love me, then you won't hurt him.”

Kylo stood there for a moment in the middle of the hall, visibly trembling. “Do not dangle love as a bargaining chip.”

“I'm not,” you spat. “My love is unconditional. But I won't allow you to do this. You're _better_ than this.”

He shook his head. “No. I'm not.”

Without another word, he turned around and began to march further down the hall. You watched as he walked away whilst still leaning against the wall. Your legs wanted to move, wanted to follow him, but everything within him screamed for you to stay. He was feral, dangerous. His mind wasn't his own but was filled with Darkness, and he knew that you would only be harmed if you got close. But you fought against it. As he turned down another hall, you started to walk forward. The Force pressed against you; Kylo tried to keep you there, but you fought it. You would follow, come hell or high water.

“Kylo! Get back here!” you shouted.

“NO!” he roared from down the hall. His mind was too focused on the missing map piece and how it had slipped through his fingers. The fury was building until ready to explode.

Your legs felt as though they weighed a tonne each, and every step took all of your effort. You were so incredibly slow and only halfway down the hall when you knew that Kylo was destroying a set of control panels. Even if you hadn't been able to feel the lightsabre in your hand or see through his eyes, you could hear the snapping of the blade from where you walked and could hear metal chunks flying across the hallway and scattering along the floor.

You managed to turn down the hall, and Kylo was a mirage among flying sparks. Several transmission stations and control panels were in pieces all over the floor, and smoke was billowing away from him.

“REN!” Hux ran up from behind you and was screaming in Kylo's direction from just in front of you. His body was a shield from the sparks that fell at your feet. “STOP BREAKING MY THINGS!”

Kylo turned, chest heaving as he thrust his lightsabre into the wall. It cut through a metal plate and shut off as it fell to the floor. He screamed through the helmet, which cut in and out of the distorter because of the high decibel. You felt the Force stop controlling your legs but no longer wanted to move. Instead, you stood there beside Hux with your hands balled up on your hips and the most deadpan expression possible on your face.

Hux was shouting at him again. “STOP DESTROYING EVERYTHING! STARS, YOU ARE SUCH A CHILD!” He turned to you, completely exasperated. “ _Please_ tell him to stop destroying my ship!”

“Kylo... again?” You groaned and stared up at the ceiling where smoke was blowing in little circles as it dissipated.

“It was his _things_ or _him_ or _you_! Which would you have preferred?” Kylo shot back. He barreled over to you, his hands balled into fists that shook at his sides. “I wasn't going to hurt _you_.”

Kylo Ren was a mess of hurt and rage, and yet bubbling to the surface was still his undeniable love for you. He had no idea which emotion to let reign him, and so they all did at once. It was pitiful as he stood there shaking, and yet you were smiling. And not just smiling, but trying your damnedest not to laugh, which just seemed to infuriate him more.

You reached up and unlocked the helmet from his face, pulling it away just enough to see his lips and the tip of his nose. Standing on your tip toes, you gave him a quick kiss and tried to transfer any calm left in you to him. Then you began to lower the helmet back on his head, but Kylo's hands caught yours. He pulled the entire helmet off and threw it behind him so that it landed directly on Hux's foot, and the general began to curse out a storm. Kylo didn't particularly give a shit, because his hands were suddenly on either side of your face and lips pressed against yours, passionately, violently, without any control whatsoever. He didn't care who saw, didn't care that Hux was screaming at him, didn't care that you were in the middle of a hallway surrounded by smoke and debris from his fit of rage.

_You told me it would be preferable for me to kiss you instead of yelling or punching something? Fine. Here. My fist won't land in Hux's face._

You kissed him back, hands balled in his hair and fluffing it up from having been pressed down by his helmet.

 _You bastard_ , you sighed through the Bond. You took a handful of his hair and pulled until he let out a moan and bit at your lip, gripping your jaw tighter with gloved hands.

“Are _either_ of you listening to me?!” Hux called from a few feet away. He was seething mad and threw Kylo's helmet toward the wall, but Kylo tore a hand from your face and used the Force to stop the helmet in midair. He let it fall to the floor with a dull thud, and then his hand was pressed to your throat as he shoved you further against the wall. Your hand yanked at his hair, pulling his face from yours for just a moment.

“Are you playing a game with me?” you asked, slightly out of breath.

Kylo rolled his eyes with a cocky grin. “Quite possibly.”

Finally, he had seemed to calm down, and his violent temper was now simmering. You glanced over at Hux, who was standing behind Kylo with his arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping. He was fit to be tied as though all of Kylo Ren's anger had been transferred over to him.

“I don't have time for games, Ren,” he commented, icy blue eyes narrowed at the both of you. “Neither does she.”

“She's not much of your concern,” Kylo shot back. He let go of you and walked over to Hux. With just a touch of the Force, his lightsabre flew across the hallway and into his hand, which Kylo snapped into place on his belt. “The only thing you should be concerned with, General, is calling a Trooper to clean this up.” Kylo motioned to the metal and smoldering circuits on the floor. “And then sending another set of Troopers down to Jakku.”

“Why Jakku? We were there only two hours ago,” Hux groaned.

“Because,” Kylo explained, “That damned map isn't with the pilot any longer. It's with a specialised BB unit—orange and white. See if your miserable troops can find it.”

Hux's fingers had balled into a fist as Kylo insulted his soldiers. “ _Ren..._ ” he hissed. “My Troopers aren't your play things.”

“Really?” Kylo had that shit-eating grin on his face. His head tilted to the side in a moment of silence, and suddenly Hux clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut.

“Get the fuck out of my head, Ren.”

But Kylo was smiling all the more. “You think that my only play thing should be _her_?” He glanced over to you. “Well, maybe I have _multiple_ play things.”

Hux finally seemed to rip himself from Kylo's forced entry into his mind and shoved him aside to little effect. Kylo merely laughed, feeling overly satisfied with himself. He watched as Hux stormed down the hall toward the bridge to go command some sorry soul to clean up the mess that Ren had made. And then Kylo turned back to where you stood against the metal wall.

You raised an eyebrow as he sauntered over. “He thinks I'm your _play thing_?” How funny, because honestly, you viewed _Hux_ as being _Kylo's_ toy. He was a red headed little marionette whose strings were drawn by both Kylo Ren and Snoke.

“He thinks a lot of foolish things,” Kylo mentioned. His hands were back at your face, and the cool leather rubbed against the skin of your cheek. If only he could stay there forever.

“He's still high in command, though. What are his thoughts on Poe? Would he be upset if I... if I interjected about his treatment?”

Kylo groaned. “Hux isn't the type of person to let the enemy live.”

“Are _you_?”

“...Not usually. I make my exceptions, but--”

“--Make an exception, Kylo.” The words sprung from your mouth, but they weren't begging, weren't desperate. They were a command as though you were the most powerful person on this entire ship.

“You don't know what he has done.”

“I don't care. I know that he's not a bad person.”

Kylo rolled his shoulders with a sigh. What in the stars was he going to do with you and your ridiculous need to save the pilot's life? Did you have _any_ idea how important Poe Dameron was to the Resistance? _Any_ idea of the damage he had caused to their TIE fighters and Troopers?

The Force Bond seemed to open wide, and Kylo closed his eyes with his hand still resting against your face. “See what he has done.”

Begrudgingly, you allowed a stream of jolted memories to pass into your head. At first, you could see through Kylo's eyes and the tiny slit of his helmet again. Your humid breath... _his_ breath... was back inside of the helmet, and you felt claustrophobic as you stood there in his body, looking down at a bleeding Poe Dameron. Kylo's gloved hand was against the pilot's head, the Force pulling out memory after memory.

Like falling through a tunnel, you were sucked not just into Kylo Ren's mind but into Poe Dameron's. Light flashed and faded, stars flying through the air that you couldn't quite determine as being real or not. You looked down at your hands and realised that they were Poe's as he piloted an X-wing. The controls were flashing, alarms sounding, and his fingers pulled against a series of triggers. All at once, bright blasts of plasma were shooting forward from the X-wing, and you watched as two TIE fighters exploded, sending chunks of metal flying in every direction.

Then, the X-wing made a flip through the darkness of space as it began to outrun another TIE Fighter. Poe's voice broke through, alarmed and yelling into the microphone in his helmet.

“Jess, we need back up! NOW.”

A familiar voice was in the helmet's earphones amidst static and more beeping controls.

“General Organa's fleet is too far--”

“Then you know what we gotta do.”

The silence on the other end of the microphone terrified you as you waited for Jessika's voice to return. Your heart beat had sped up to match Poe's, and you could feel the sweat on his face and the pain shooting through his limbs. He was so overworked, so tired, and yet was still fighting.

“Jess...”

“I heard you!” she called back. “Chicken?”

Poe chuckled. “Yeah.”

He cruised around in a rapid circle, and for the first time within this memory, you could see Jessika. She was merely a tiny dot within her X-wing, but there she was—suited in orange and white with a helmet pressed over her head. But you knew it was her. You would recognise her from anywhere. Her own X-wing was facing Poe's from a distance, and three more TIE fighters were chasing behind her. She continued to speed forward, and Poe hit a lever, sending him even faster in her direction.

Poe glanced at a screen beside several controls: two more Fighters behind him. He sped up even more.

“Jess, you got this?”

“'Course I do!” she yelled back.

Poe grit his teeth together and pulled another lever. All at once, his ship jolted forward, and when it looked as though he and Jessika were just a hair's width from crashing, he pulled up, suddenly spinning in a rapid loop away from her, and four of the five TIE fighters crashed in a terrible explosion.

There was a great yelp and whoop within the headset, and Poe was laughing as Jessika screamed out in shock.

“You weren't supposed to get _that_ close!” she screeched.

Poe was laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes. “You played that well, though!” he congratulated.

“Stars, Dameron, you're the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah, well don't start that until we're in the clear. There's one more--”

And just as you were waiting for Poe to continue speaking, you were ripped from his mind, ripped from even Kylo's as he had stood in the interrogation room, and back to your own body in the hallway.

Your chest was pounding, and you gasped for breath. Kylo still stood there, his hand having never left your face.

“Do you see?” he asked. But you couldn't answer him. Not after having experienced not one but _two_ people's minds all at once.

“Shit, Kylo!” you sputtered. Next time, you would demand that he _warn_ you what he was about to put you through—or whose _mind_ he was going to show off. You hadn't really known what you expected to see through the Bond, but it hadn't been that.

“You see now why he won't be kept alive,” Kylo said. He wasn't bitter about it but saw Poe's mortality as a simple fact. He was the enemy. He had killed Troopers. This was a war. Poe had to die. “I don't expect you to like this. I don't expect you to understand.”

“I _understand_. But no. I'm not going to like this. I'm not on your—on the First Order's _side_. I'm not on _anyone's_ side in this damned war!” Or at least you hadn't believed that you were on anyone's side, though it felt increasingly more difficult to support that idea.

“So you don't think that it's fair for him to die?” Kylo asked. “Even after seeing how easily he killed the Troopers?”

You groaned. “I don't know! No. It's not fair. It's... I really don't know, Kylo. I just hate this!”

He nodded, and then his helmet hovered into the air with a flick of his fingers, and he placed it on his head. His voice was delivered through the modifier, low and full of rumbling static.

“I know...” he finally mentioned, though in response to what part of your complaints, you weren't sure. Did he hate this war just as much as you did? Hate the murdering and torturing? Did he want to see people live who instead had the light pass from their eyes? You didn't know. Part of you didn't even _want_ to know.

Kylo backed up with a sigh. “I'll put in a word to Hux that you know him. Will that satisfy you?”

You shook your head in agreement. It was at least something. “Thank you.”

He responded with only another exasperated sigh and then turned down the hallway, hands flexing and rolling into fists back and forth to blow off some of his stress. You watched until he had turned toward the bridge and then leaned your head back against the cool metal wall. Your pulse still felt like it was fluttering from having seen that memory, and it took you a minute to catch your breath.

Wobbly like a newborn fawn, you managed to pull yourself together after a few minutes and make your way back down the hall toward the interrogation room. You swallowed nervously whilst pausing before the closed double doors. Part of you wanted to enter the room and check on Poe—make sure that he was still breathing and tell him how sorry you were. Sorry that he had been harmed; sorry that you had somehow fallen on the wrong side of this war. You couldn't even feel him with the Force, which scared you. Pressing your hand against the door and closing your eyes, you tried to feel something. Anything. A heartbeat, a thought. Any proof that he was still alive would be enough, but there was nothing.

 _I'm not strong enough in the Force_...

There was no other explanation other than accepting that he was dead against all that cold metal and restraints, and you weren't quite willing to do that yet. So you dragged yourself on down the hall, making a few turns until you were good and lost. Too many thoughts were still in your head—too much stimuli. You didn't want to go back to Kylo's quarters yet and didn't want to face the chaos that was surely occurring on the bridge where Hux and Kylo would be giving orders. And yet you didn't want to be alone. You wanted _controlled_ chaos. Chaos that you could lose yourself in.

So where else to go than the hanger?  
Somehow you found your way there. It must have been due to a latent mental map caused by being so connected to Kylo's mind. That or maybe you really _had_ learnt the layout of the ship in less than a day, though you doubted that one. The hanger was just ahead, large sliding doors open as Troopers ran in and out.

Ran.

That seemed strange. Why were they running when--

_BOOM._

An explosion rocked the ship, and you stumbled as the floor moved beneath you. You hit against the wall, braced right arm hitting a control panel. Thank God you still had that brace in place, or else you would have wound up with a rebroken arm in the middle of what seemed to be an attack. Righting yourself, you ran through the open doors to see what was happening, which was probably a foolish idea, but then again, so was signing this year long contract in the first place.

Even from a few steps inside of the hanger, you could see that something was going very wrong. A TIE fighter was attempting to leave the hanger whilst still being locked to its docking station, which could have been interpreted as an accident if it wasn't for all of the Troopers on the ground shooting their blasters toward the ship. It tugged and tugged whilst swiveling about, and then it shot down to the hanger floor. Several Troopers leapt out of the way in time, but two were in the path of the blast. After the sparks and smoke blew away, a tangle of Trooper body parts were left in place, their armour melted and twisted around a splattering of blood.

You gasped in horror as another series of blasts came from the TIE fighter. Four more Troopers were hit as well as several mounted blasters and an unmanned cruiser. You backed up a few steps as more Troopers ran away in absolute mayhem, and one the Troopers knocked into you from behind, sending you falling to the duracrete on your hands and knees. This time, you fell on your left arm and could feel the stitches pull along the nearly healed gash that had been hidden behind the lightest layer of gauze possible. A few of the stitches snapped, and you hissed out a curse as a speckling of blood leaked through the gauze.

Yet another rumbling blast rattled the hanger, and glass shattered across the floor, raining down upon you and the Troopers. You squeezed your eyes shut with your arms over your head. Shaking the glass shards from your hair and sweater, you glanced up to see that the TIE fighter had nearly broken loose of its anchoring. It lowered nearer the floor for a moment, and you peered inside the cockpit for any clues as to who in the hell would be attacking their own people.

For only a second, you locked eyes with none other than Poe Dameron. He had a look of pure determination on his face as he yelled toward someone else inside of the Fighter, but when he saw you, his face fell. That second lasted hours.

_Poe!_

_… Why are_ you _here--_

And then the TIE fighter swiftly flew back toward the hanger ceiling, and with another blast toward one of the hanger's command centres, it broke free. Poe—and whoever it was who had escaped with him—were launched from the hanger. Several other TIE fighters followed suit, all spinning in a deadly dance of blaster fire. They moved further and further from the _Finalizer_ until they were nothing more than a speck in the deep, dark expanse of space.

* * *

**Glossary:**

_Mental Maps_ are real things. Our brains are capable of creating various maps of our surroundings, and the ability to navigate can be developed like any other skill. There is considerable evidence that using computer directions rather than looking at maps has actually caused the younger generations to not properly develop the area of the brain in charge of spatial thinking. I actually highly recommend looking at the maps provided with your directions and practicing using cardinal directions when traveling to different places. Though this alone may not improve your spatial thinking, it can certainly help over time in conjunction to formal education (e.g., learning geometry, art, etc.). Another interesting thing about spatial thinking and mental maps are that they are one of the first things to go in people with Alzheimer's Disease. During the earliest stages, the skill to navigate through once familiar places leaves and is a common way for family members to identify a memory deficit.

 **A/N:**  So, this chapter ended up being really strange, and in a sleep-induced dare, I wrote a second version which is NSFW and posted on my tumblr [HERE](http://starkillerscience.tumblr.com/post/140134898886/starkiller-science-chapter-28-nsfw-version).  It was an interesting idea to write, but in the end, I think that my original idea worked better for the plot, and so it made it into the final cut here.


	30. Erratic Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe's and FN-2187's escape is the catalyst for the First Order's anxiety, and no one is more angry and erratic than Kylo Ren. His behaviour switches from hot to cold as his mind fractures between the pull of Snoke's guidance into the Darkness and your ever-present Light that has him questioning everything that he believes.

**Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-Nw7HbaeWY&list=PL0PGmOE0Guha_gs4EKase0KyclRrXveWZ)

* * *

You were still plucking shards of glass from your palms and knees in the _Finalizer_ 's bridge when General Hux and Kylo Ren came storming in, practically screaming at one another. Captain Phasma followed closely behind and sat beside you to watch the spectacle.

“Why were you even in the hanger?” she asked upon seeing your bloodied hands.

A storm of glass had covered the hanger floor when the TIE fighter had blown a control centre back to the stone age with a single blast. Of course, the glass just _had_ to shatter all over your back and onto the floor. As the explosions had carried on, you had scooted back toward a wall with your knees and palms crunching over the glass. It embedded into your skin, leaving a trail of blood behind you. Your clothes were still covered in the sparkling shards, and every time you turned your head, another few pieces would fall from your hair with soft _ting tings_ upon the floor.

“I don't even know,” you answered after a few seconds of plucking and pulling. You winced at a particularly large shard that came out of your wrist, and a small stream of blood snaked past the joint to drip into your lap. Sighing, you started to unwrap the gauze from your left arm so that you could wipe at the fresh wound and inspect the stitches that had snapped. A row of over twenty stitches bubbled down the length of your forearm, bright red but nearly healed. Three of the stitches had split, and the skin had separated with it. All in all, you were a sight of carnage. There was no doubt in your mind that Kylo Ren would be alarmed and furious once he saw the blood that had smeared and dripped from you.

But for at least now, he hadn't yet noticed. Snapping at Hux was his first priority—each word laced with disdain and sarcasm as Hux stood there, loathing everything about him.

Kylo had apparently already tormented Hux over the inadequacies of his Troopers, which had enraged Phasma enough that she had kept behind the two, silently seething and refusing to open her mouth. It wasn't enough that one of her Troopers had just become a traitor, but now Ren had to insult her? To hell with him.

Phasma groaned from beneath her helmet. “Of all my Troopers, I had to lose _him_.”

“Who?” you asked absent-mindedly.

“FN-2187. He showed such promise, too.”

You perked up, recognising the name. It was the FN-whatever Trooper... the one who had commented upon being your guardian angel when he led you from the medical wing a couple weeks before. So he had betrayed the First Order... Your heart was heavy at hearing as much, but you couldn't imagine how upset Phasma must be. Phasma's life hadn't been going in the best direction lately—first with Amena being injured and now with this. She was mostly silent, not wanting to be in the same room as Hux nor Kylo Ren but knowing where her duties lied.

General Hux stood with his back to Ren and concentrated on a radar transmission that played the escape over and over and over again. Each play-through sent Hux grinding his teeth ever more. A Lieutenant, Dopheld Mitaka, was seated next to him, mapping out the coordinates of the escaped TIE fighter. It had already been determined that the fighter would crash in the badlands of Jakku, but now he searched for an exact location.

Hux motioned toward Phasma who flinched beside you. She stood with sore joints cracking and forced herself beside him.

“General?”

“I want four squadrons on the ground to search for the pilot and FN-2187. Not just in the badlands but the villages as well.”

“Am I to assume that you're expecting them to live through the crash?”

Hux's eye was twitching as he stared Phasma down. “I'm not willing to take any chances. Bring back any body parts that you find, but I'll be most pleased with a set of skulls.”

Phasma nodded and gave a salute, though you knew damned well that she wanted to also sink her fist into Hux's cocky face and then kick Kylo Ren squarely in the chest. Kylo was just as aware, and you could hear him laughing through the Bond as she walked away. He must have realised that you heard him, because he turned to you for the first time since having berated Hux. For a split second, he appeared buoyant at your mere presence. Sparks of relief flickered through his mind at seeing you—at seeing someone who wasn't Hux and who wouldn't drive him up the wall. But that second was short lived; he saw the blood.

A mighty roar cracked like fire from his helmet as he ran toward you, falling to his knees in front of you and holding your arm in his hands.

“WHO DID THIS?” Kylo was livid to the point that sparks were flying from the control panels behind him as the metal crumpled in on itself. The Force pulsed in waves from his body, threatening to destroy anything and anyone who should get too close.

“Calm down, Kylo,” you sighed, gently pulling your arm back to your lap. His hands were held before him and shaking as he tried to figure out what to do. Did he lift you and run to a med ward? Did he patch you up himself, right there and now? Were you faint? How much did it hurt? So many questions were coursing through him, and you heard them all. “It stings, and I feel like shit, but I'm fine.”

“You're covered in blood and expect me to believe that you're _fine_?” he hissed. Kylo pulled your hands to rest on your thighs with the palms up, and he held his hand above, pulling out microscopic shards of glass from your knees and hands with the Force. The bloody fragments hovered in the air like a mist and then fell to the floor alongside the droplets of blood that dripped from your wrist. “You're not fine...”

There was no arguing with him—not while he was in this kind of a rage. His hands were still on your arms, turning them this way and that as he pulled out the few remaining pieces of glass and tried to wipe at the blood with his tabard. He was pathetic as he tried to mend you. Too angry to see straight, too outraged to do a good job, too in love with you to stand the sight of you bleeding and suffering.

“You're not fine, either,” you commented. “You're exhausted.”

You glanced at a clock on a monitor nearby to read that it was nearly six in the morning. How was it even that time? You shook your head, trying to put the pieces together. All of the little naps and flight from the satellite to the _Finalizer_ had completely destroyed your sleep-wake cycle. Time was ephemeral, nearly non-existent.

Kylo followed your gaze and groaned. “I'm not tired.”

You swallowed a laugh. “Then humour me and take me to bed, because _I_ want to sleep.”

This request seemed more reasonable to Kylo. He nodded and then quickly lifted you into his arms, which hadn't been what you were expecting, but by this point, you weren't going to complain. Fuck it. If he wanted to carry you, then let him. It was a free ride down the hall, and your raw knees stung from the fabric of your trousers when you walked, anyway.

Kylo quite nearly broke the door to his quarters when he forced it open with a flick of his hand, and you were back in the low lighting of his bunker. With trembling arms, Kylo sat you on the bed and then reached for his helmet to chuck it to the floor with a loud clatter. He stared down at you with both pity and fear. Here you were getting hurt again, and he was so powerless to stop it. _Why_ was he so powerless? Why was he helpless and in the wrong places at the wrong times and so damned undependable? How had he turned out this way? His fists were balled and ready to punch, ready to crush something, ready to strike with his lightsabre to destroy everything that pained him.

“I'm fucking useless,” he hissed. And then he turned around so that his back was to you and fingers tangled in his black hair, tugging as though that would pull the stress from his body. “ _Fucking. Useless._ ”

“No you aren't.” But you didn't sound all that convincing. You were just too tired to put in the effort. “Kylo. Come here.”

“No!”

“Please.”

He pulled in a few jagged breaths and turned. His eyes were rimmed in red and threatening to spill with tears. Moving toward you, he crashed onto his bed and buried his face into the blankets—one of which you recognised.

You pulled the blanket out from under him. “Is this... my throw blanket from my couch?”

Kylo wiggled his head against the blanket to nod that it was.

Holy shit; you hadn't seen this blanket in months! It had disappeared after the first time that Kylo had slept in your apartment. So it had been _here_ all this time.

Something about seeing the blanket appear out of nowhere and Kylo face down like a child and your stupidly tired mind and all of the blood loss... well, all combined, they had you laughing. And not just a regular laugh, but the kind that got caught in your throat so that it was a silent sob of a laugh that tightened your abs until it was physically painful. As Kylo still lied down and refused to face the world, you were on your back beside him, cackling as though this was the most hilarious thing in the entire fucking world.

“YOU STOLE MY FUCKING BLANKET,” you laughed through sobs. “SO YOU COULD CUDDLE WITH IT. I'M DYING, KYLO.”

He finally turned his head, eyes wide at hearing any mention of you dying. “Don't say that.”

You were clenching your stomach and getting even more blood on your shirt as the cackling turned into softer laughs and silent tears. “Stars! You _are_ a child! But I love you!”

Tears rolled down your face and into your hair, and you stared up at the dark ceiling, right hand searching for Kylo beside you. You bumped against his hand and gave a squeeze whilst forgetting just how bloody and sore your palm was. He gave a gentle squeeze back and then rolled over onto his side. Scooting directly next to you, he wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his forehead against your hair with eyes closed.

“What are we going to do about those stitches?” he asked, and you glanced down to your left arm. The stitches that had snapped were causing the skin to rupture cleanly along a fresh scar. It would most likely need re-sutured, but leaving the bed was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I don't know,” you sighed. “Wrap it up and leave me to suffer. It can be fixed in the morning.”

“It _is_ the morning.”

“You know what I mean.”

Kylo let out a long groan and sat up for a moment. He looked even more exhausted now that he had had a chance to lie down for a minute. Slowly, he pulled himself to standing and went over to a connected washroom to search for something, _anything,_ to wrap up your arm. He came back after a moment with a roll of cotton tape used to wrap his wrists whilst training, but it would get the job done. You still stared up at the ceiling as Kylo wrapped up your arm, snug and secure.

Even in your fatigued state, your mind was still racing. You thought of Poe and FN-2187, their ship crashing into the desert badlands. There was no way they would survive. How could they? Even if they lived through the crash, the heat would dehydrate them in hours, and they would be nothing but a bag of bones in the sand. As much as Hux was infuriated by their escape, you wished that they had been given the opportunity to live. But then, this was war. Casualties were to be expected.

It's just that the reality didn't make it hurt any less.

“You're thinking about that escaped pilot,” Kylo moaned after a little while. He was back to lying on his side with an arm around you, and he had thrown your blanket over both of you.

“Yes... About Poe.”

“How did you know him?” You weren't sure how much Kylo actually wanted to know. His eyes were closed again, and he was on the verge of falling asleep against you.

“Undergraduate studies. He was training to be a pilot and friends with my roommate—the one I sent Pickles to. Poe was more of an acquaintance, but I saw him at parties, conferences, awards nights. And I'm not going to lie, I feel like shit that he's most likely dead in the cockpit of a TIE fighter.”

Kylo grunted in reply, too tired to speak. _He's part of the Resistance. He had the map leading to Luke. I don't know what you expected of his fate._

“I don't know what I expected, either,” you whispered. “Just not this. Not _any_ of this.”

He didn't reply, but you felt Kylo's breathing slow and grow deeper as he fell fully into sleep. And eventually, painfully, you did as well.

* * *

 

Ever familiar darkness greeted you—the only light being a slowly blinking set of digital numbers at the bed side. Apparently it was four in the afternoon. You stretched with aching arms, feeling the stretch and pull of newly formed scabs over your palms. Your fingers searched along the blanket for Kylo but found nothing but cold, empty sheets. He was gone again. This seemed to happen far too often. He would be there when you fell asleep but then disappear as soon as he awoke to do God knows what. One of these days, you would appreciate waking beside him, feeling his warmth against your body as you drifted in and out of sleep. There would be no better way to wake.

You could hear Kylo through the Bond as you drifted out of his bed and fixed yourself up in his washroom. Once again, his thoughts didn't come through as words but as the highs and lows of feelings. They entered your mind like a gentle breeze, like white noise and the hum of talk radio in the background of a cruiser. How quickly you had become used to being connected to him and feeling double sets of emotions at all time. It was tiring, for sure, but the experience was equally as exhilarating. Who else could say that they shared a mental link with another person? Well, aside from other Force sensitive individuals, but they were few and far between.

After showering and dressing in a fresh outfit, you made your way to the ship's bridge to meet with Kylo. There was no solid evidence that he would be there, but you knew to trust your instincts by this point. After all, they really weren't instincts at all but the will of the Force, which was still a little crazy to think about.

 _Definitely not supported by science_ , you mused. And a little spark bounced in your head. Kylo had heard you and evidently chuckled to himself.

As you entered the bridge, Kylo Ren was standing off to the side, concentrating on a radar screen showing several TIE fighters on Jakku and their coordinates. The tiny dots representing each fighter were moving rapidly and erratically, like two cats chasing after a particularly wily mouse. To the side was the lieutenant from earlier, Dopheld Mitaka. He was still just as busy at a radar panel as he had been at the crack of dawn, and dark, purple circles hung under his eyes. There was no doubt that he had been awake for over 24 hours.

Kylo left him and crossed to the opening of the bridge to greet you, his arms wrapping around your waist to bring you to him. A strangely loving quality held to him. Not strange in the way that he loved you, because that was obvious. But he seemed overly elated, joyful. He was riding some kind of high that was more worrisome than positive.

“What's happening?” you asked as Kylo motioned for you to follow to the radar screen.

“Something decent for a change,” he answered. His finger tapped on one of the moving dots. “Our fighters are close to getting the droid. As soon as this ship is brought down, I'll have my map. Everything is moving forward.”

Just by the tone of his voice, you knew that he was smiling beneath his helmet. There was so much hope in him. Hope that this search would come to an end, that a galactic war could be postponed as he sought Luke. Enough hope, in fact, that when one of the TIE fighters flashed from the radar in a crash, he barely flinched. There was still another fighter. The ship that they chased had nowhere to go. Reports had come that it was a mere junker, anyway.

Kylo Ren waited on baited breath as the second fighter drew closer and closer to the ship, and he drew a sharp breath in when the ship seemed to malfunction and drop into a free fall.

 _Now!_ He was so ready to see the ship's signal become stationary, but at the last second, the fighter disappeared. All at once, the ship had launched past Jakku's atmosphere and was speeding into space—far, far away from the _Finalizer_ and any other First Order ships that could have caught up with it.

For a few seconds, Kylo was completely still and stared at the radar in apparent shock. Then, slowly, and with a dark sense of control, he took a few steps over to a viewport and leaned his arms against the metal sill. The muscles in his back were clenching, fists balling up. He didn't want to believe that this was true, but he could feel it. Through the minute changes in the Force, he knew that the TIE fighters had been destroyed and that the droid was launching every farther from his reach.

The air in the room changed within an instant. Where there had been high hopes, now there was a thick energy of foreboding that filled every cell in your body. It was a weight, pressing down and threatening to smother anything that should get too close.

Without thinking, you started to back away until you were on the opposite side of the bridge. He was going to explode. It was only a matter of seconds. He only needed the spark to set everything aflame.

A comm near Lieutenant Mitaka flashed with an alarm, and he picked it up, hand trembling as the speaker on the other side relayed a message. He glanced at Kylo Ren and then ended the comm. The poor man was shaking as he stood and approached Kylo Ren from behind.

“Lord Ren...” his voice wavered. “Our forces on Jakku... they say that the droid was on that freighter along with the deserter, FN-2187--”

Mitaka couldn't finish his sentence, because Kylo had already ignited his lightsabre and was thrashing wildly at the instrument panel beside him, sending orange sparks flying through the bridge. Large chunks of metal crashed to the floor, and Mitaka flinched, eyes squeezed shut as the shrapnel flew past. Mitaka waited silently for Kylo to finish and watched as the sabre was deactivated and roughly reconnected to his belt. Kylo Ren's back was heaving, and he fought off a yell that wanted desperately to be released from his lips.

“There's... There's more,” Mitaka squeaked. “They appear to have been helped by a local scavenger. A girl.”

You thought that the first round of bad news had set Kylo off, but this... This was different. This wasn't a match dropped on kindling. This was a fucking bomb.

Kylo was even more livid, and within a second, his hand was tensed and pulling Mitaka toward him by the neck with the Force. How familiar. You had been in such a similar position once. Except that this was not an accident. There was purpose in dragging the lieutenant across the room and choking him.

“WHAT GIRL?” Kylo roared.

Mitaka sputtered, his hands trying to grab at Ren's wrist for release.

Kylo repeated himself, yelling even louder as his fingers cut at the lieutenant's ability to breathe. You had scarcely seen Kylo get this angry before, and you fought through the Bond, trying to get into his mind to calm him, to seek answers. You felt like a warrior entering a burning building; his thoughts were fire and acid. He _knew_ whoever this girl was. He knew _exactly_ who she was, and though you couldn't access anything further, you knew that it scared him. It absolutely terrified him down to the pit of his stomach. And Kylo was aware of you on the other side of the bridge, keeping your distance but prying into his most private thoughts. The Bond flickered and then shut down as much as he was capable. You tried to break through it—not to find any more information, but just to get him out of his sudden madness before he killed Mitaka.

“KYLO!” you screeched from across the room, but words alone weren't going to break through his rage. Kylo Ren was positively feral. His grip around Mitaka's neck only grew stronger, and you dashed forward, hands pulling at his arm. “Kylo! Stop!”

Kylo Ren's head cocked to the side to face you, though he still held Mitaka in the air without letting go.

“Stop this,” you demanded.

The galaxy's longest second passed as Kylo contemplated your demand. He _could_ let Mitaka down, which would please you and be the _right_ thing to do. But he could _also_ throw Mitaka across the room, which seemed so much more satisfying at the moment. And so Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka found himself flying through the air to land sharply against a wall-mounted hologram projector. It snapped from the wall and crashed to the floor beneath him, showering the room in golden sparks. Mitaka was dazed as he scooted across the floor on his bottom and then dragged himself to stand so that he could run down the hall on wobbly legs.

“Was that necessary?” you spat.

Kylo watched as Mitaka left sight down the hall and then turned toward you—turned _on_ you. He was menacing, using his height against you and backing you up against the instrument panel that he had so recently destroyed. You could feel the melted controls at your back, feel the heat of simmering circuit boards. Kylo pinned you against the panel, his hands at your shoulders. Even with your heart beating so fast that you thought your chest would seize and lungs would wither in seconds, you stood your ground.

“And _this_? Is _this_ necessary?”

He could feel your pulse beneath his fingers, and your anxiety was fluttering through the Force Bond in tiny spurts. Trying to block the Bond completely was impossible—especially when he was this enraged that _she_ would be here. _That girl_. Like a ghost come back to its body, dancing undead, there she was—right back in his life.

“Do you understand what this means?” Kylo asked, voice cold as ice and sending shivers down your spine. “You have no idea... You have _no idea_ what she means to this entire war!”

“And you aren't going to actually tell me who she is.” You didn't need to ask Kylo. The way that he had blocked the Bond with all his might meant that this would be a secret. Just another in a long line.

“No.”

You both stood in a deadlock—Kylo's hands still holding you into place and your eyes locked precisely where his would be. No darkened visor helmet could stop you from knowing where he was looking, and you could tell that he was growing nervous. He couldn't shake you off, and slowly, he let go and took a step back.

Rolling your shoulders, you let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't harmed you, but his boiling anger was a terrible force all on its own, and you couldn't deny the fear that was bubbling within you.

“I'm sorry,” Kylo said, voice robotic. There was nothing sincere about the apology—not now while his mind was on fire with anger.

“No, you aren't.” You stood with arms folded for a moment and then sat on the edge of the destroyed panel. “Apologise again when you can think clearly.”

“I can think _perfectly_ _fine_.”

You rolled your eyes. Sure. _Sure_ he could.

Kylo was back beside you, leaning forward to look out of the viewport, and he let his helmet thud against the glass as he looked out at nothing in particular.

“So what now?” you asked, reaching forward to give his hand a squeeze. He sighed and pulled off his helmet. His pale face was drenched in sweat, black hair sticking to his forehead as he pulled in a breath of fresh air.

“It's the same damned plan. We find the droid; get the map.” _Get that girl._ “I'll command the _Finalizer_ back to Base to regroup and await more information. And then... we'll see where we end up.”

 _We_. At least he was including you in this limited capacity, even if information about the girl was off limits.

“Back to Starkiller Base, then...” you mumbled. Kylo nodded. Perhaps it would be nice to be back with Talia and the researchers—even if it was for a few hours as Kylo got his shit together.

“Yes,” Kylo sighed, realising that he had to start this whole damn process over again. He needed guidance—needed counsel before he ripped apart the entire star destroyer. “And I'll need to see Snoke.”


	31. Han Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren has been left with a task by Snoke meant to further his training, but it only acts to further break him. His nightmares, haunted memories, and guilt flood through the Bond. You question why Kylo must be faced with so much pain—why his thoughts that pour into your mind are so damaged. Who hurt him so terribly, and why does Snoke continue to rip into old wounds?

**Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xd4EE-0yLuk&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhagTSXfiv7tI9NweGaULHcN)

* * *

_A rush._ _A_ _fever._ _B_ _right colours in the midst of darkness. Lights danced on the periphery of vision. Eyelashes trembled. Twitch. A_ _whimper_ _. A tensing of muscles and sudden kick with a startled yell._

Kylo Ren sat up in bed and gasped for breath as he stared madly into the darkness. The blankets were tangled around his legs, sweat dripping down his bare chest. He pulled one breath, two, sucking in air as though he would drown. His eyes were wild and wide as saucers as he brought his hands to his face. What did he need to hide from when in the dark? Slowly, he brought his left hand down to the blankets and inched further away from his body until he found you.

How had you managed to sleep through that? Not only through him jolting upright but through the dream. You had been there, just on the edge, watching. He knew he hadn't dreamt your presence; it had been so real. It was the Bond. It had to be.

Kylo let his fingers curl into your hair and then hid his face against his drawn up knees. Everything was so confusing. So fast. Rushed and bright and dark all at once. These dreams... They had been usual for years, but now they seemed more realistic, more pressing than ever. It was as though his last conversation with Snoke had sparked something new within him and brought these dreams front and centre.

Why couldn't he dream of you, instead? Why of Han? Why _always and always_ of Han Solo, creeping into the dream and then taking over? Surely you had noticed Han and Leia on Kylo's mind. _Surely_. It was fucking constant.

Lying back in bed, Kylo twisted to fit against your body and draw you closer to him. You let out a little groan without fully waking.

“Kylo...”

“I'm here,” he whispered, lips against your ear.

“...Dreams.”

He sighed. “I know.”

And then you drifted fully back into sleep, back into the pitch black of night and the dreams of strangled cries.

* * *

Whatever it was that had been discussed in the conference between Kylo Ren, General Hux, and Snoke had led to nothing but trouble. Of that much, you were completely certain. In the past couple of days, Kylo had been nothing if not more erratic and moody than he had been before. At first, you thought that the missing map was to blame, but something had changed. Memories kept flooding through the Bond ever since their meeting. Memories of Kylo's childhood. You could see images of his parents, particularly his father.

 _Han Solo_.

That was the name that repeated in his head, over and over and over again. One moment Kylo would be acting normally—he'd be giving commands, working, wrapping his hands around your waist. The next moment, he would be lashing out, screaming. There was so much pain. The memories stabbed him like knives, drained him and replaced his blood with venom. Kylo's lightsabre made quick work of so many parts of the ship that it was a wonder he hadn't caused a serious breakdown. He was blinded by anger, fueled by loathing. A heaviness held to his voice, to his step. It was a raw determination shrouded in suffering—a suffering that he refused to disclose to you. Even through the Bond, he was silent as to the cause. So all you knew was that something in that meeting with Snoke had caused this. Snoke had dug his claws into Kylo's heart and ripped at stitches and scars to reawaken something.

You didn't know what this had to do with Han. There were no memories to show what he had actually _done_ to so terribly upset Kylo, but you quickly came to the realisation that it was perhaps the greatest knife in Kylo Ren's heart. Of all the people and events that had stabbed him, _this_ was the one that truly twisted. The pain caused by Luke was a mere ache in comparison.

Hux had discreetly mentioned that Kylo's behaviour was linked to his training from Snoke, but that still told you nothing. It didn't tell you why Han was involved unless the pain from Han was part of that training—something to bring Kylo even further into Darkness.

You had realised this at night as Kylo slept beside you, holding onto you and wetting your shoulder with his tears. He didn't even know that he was crying as he slept, which only seemed to further break your heart. What was it that Kylo had to do? How could this pain be part of his training? What did Han have to do with the Dark side of the Force? Why did Kylo's mind always hint of death?

You didn't want to think about it all, but his mind was difficult to ignore.

The past two days had been a strange blur of Kylo's madness, your half-hearted attempts at recording data about the Storm Troopers to transmit to Talia, and navigating the emotional landscapes of everyone else aboard the _Finalizer_.

Captain Phasma was nearly as angry as Kylo Ren, though she had the self-control to hide her disappointment at having one of her Troopers become a traitor. She was pissed as hell and blamed herself for FN-2187's desertion. She should have known. She should have seen the signs. This was all just another layer on the guilt cake that teetered precariously on a base of Amena's slow recovery. If only Phasma could have been with Amena more during this time, but that was out of the question—not when Kylo was in the middle of a manic episode, at least. Work had to come first. Phasma would have to accept that Amena would be watched over by Dr Hermeyer and Talia, though the thought of the latter set her slightly on edge. Talia was talented but irresponsible. Who knew what kind of shenanigans that woman was causing on Stormkiller Base without proper supervision?

General Hux was equally as unsure about Talia running around and taking lumbar punctures on the Storm Troopers, but he had little time to actually focus on her. Not that she particularly minded when there were questionable body fluids to place under her microscope. Upon the _Finalizer_ 's landing on the Starkiller Base, Hux had immediately taken himself to the meeting with Snoke and Ren and then had hidden away to finish writing a particularly demanding speech. Apparently, he was not only to reveal a new weapon in the coming day but also initiate its use to some capacity that he refused to disclose. So all of his attention was upon organising its introduction to the Troopers and raising morale.

The energy aboard the _Finalizer_ had stressed you to the point where you spent most of your time in Kylo's bunker, huddling into your knitted blanket that he had stolen so long ago. With your datapad in hand, you had begun to compile some notes about the Troopers you had seen aboard—which of them looked as though they had just come back from battle slightly dazed and confused, which were sent right back into the thick of things even with a concussion diagnoses, which helmet types seemed to be more effective, and so on. All of these notes, you sent to Talia through text transmission, and she would respond back enthusiastically.

 9-00-260-819-7701: _but shouldn't all helmets be technologically the same?? storm troopers should be same as all other troopers for inside padding..._ _right??_

9-00-251-219-8601: _Snow Troopers and Fire Troopers aren't getting the same levels of dementia, though. Three different helmet types to go with three different battle styles. It's something worth looking into along with your lumbar punctures._

9-00-260-819-7701: _which r going MARVELOUSLY, btw_

9-00-251-219-8601: _Have you found anything of interest?_

9-00-260-819-7701: _no BUT IT HAS BEEN SO MUCH FUN_

9-00-251-219-8601: _Please remember to do actual science whilst on Base._

9-00-260-819-7701: _only if u promise to do the same. i know what ur up to with ren._

9-00-251-219-8601: _Watch it. I can say the same things about you and Hux._

9-00-260-819-7701: _sshhhhhh_

You chuckled, but it was a pained thing. Apparently, there was no dampening Talia's spirit. You turned off the datapad after a while and lied back, staring out of the dark viewport and the twinkling stars. At least Talia was having a good time stealing spinal fluid from the demented Troopers.

After a few minutes, an unfamiliar number came through your datapad's transmission, indicated by a red light fading in and out as the message completed sending. You could feel your eyebrows pull together as you flicked the datapad back on and viewed the number. _263-422-05-07-199-1._ Where in the galaxy did a transmission number like _that_ even come from? Certainly nowhere near the First Order, nor anywhere close to your old academic planet. You would have recognised the first string of numbers if that was the case. The anxiety was rising through your chest, but you pressed the number to see a single line of text.

263-422-05-07-199-1: _Made me a Pickles sandwich in the bunker. Purr-ito._

No other explanation was present, but your lips twitched into a smile. There was only one other person in this whole galaxy who would use _that_ term in their cryptic message. So Jessika had received Pickles safe and sound? That was finally some good news. No wonder the transmission number was a jumbled mess that you didn't recognise; she had most likely encrypted the actual number. The last thing she would want to do is alarm the entire First Order of where the Resistance was hiding. Smart move.

But she had _always_ been smart.

You nearly threw the datapad across the room in surprise when Kylo Ren entered, and you quickly turned it off. Even though Kylo knew of the plan to send Pickles to Jessika, the less he knew the better. That transmission number would have to be stashed away in an area of your brain that he couldn't enter.

Kylo nearly ripped his helmet from his face and tossed it aside, frowning all the while. He ruffled through his hair, pulling at a chunk as he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He smelled of burning metal and sweat even from the other side of the room. With a glance in your direction, he attempted a greeting smile, but it was as pained as your laugh had been at Talia. Neither of you were all that interested in faking enthusiasm at the moment.

“You're still in bed?” he asked whilst crossing the room and sitting beside you to remove his boots. Off came his belt and tabard and armour until he was just in his long sleeved shirt and trousers.

You let your fingers glide over his back, feeling how tense each of the muscles were.

“Everyone aboard is stressing me out, so I've been hiding and sending transmissions to Talia. I want to begin the next leg of this research project whenever I'm on Base again.”

Kylo nodded and leaned his elbows on his knees and face into his hands, enjoying the feeling of your fingers on his back. He was ridiculously sore from training and stress alike. It always amazed him how his stress could manifest into stiff joints and burning muscles. Luke had warned him that he carried too much of his anxiety and stress—made it too physical and held it for too long. And maybe Luke was right about that, though Kylo wasn't willing to concede on much else.

Kylo let off a long, slow sigh as you patted his shoulder, and he gave your knee a squeeze. It was his way of saying 'thank you' when words were too difficult to be uttered. He stood with a stretch and crossed to a corner of the room with a plush pad where he would meditate, and he sat there for a moment, cross legged and leaning his chin on his fist as he looked over at you.

“You said that you're stressed by everyone aboard,” Kylo commented. “And I'm the biggest stressor of all.”

“If you're blaming yourself for me hiding, then don't. Hux has been equally as mad to be around.” You immediately regretted the words that came from your mouth, but Kylo didn't take offense.

He sat up straight and closed his eyes, ready to meditate as he so often did when alone. It was different having you around during the process, but he was surprised by how nice it felt to have you near. It was all of that Light in you that made the air calmer.

You weren't nearly as distracting as he had imagined. Much _more_ distracting were the thoughts that invaded his mind at every possible moment. Han Solo. Han Solo over and over, creeping along. Stars! He had promised Snoke that Han meant nothing to him. Had _promised_. Vowed. He meant absolutely nothing. He was another link in the chain that led into the Dark. Nothing more. Nothing less. A pawn and a tool. Someone to be used and then forgotten for the rest of eternity--

“Kylo!” you snapped, and his eyes fluttered open. “That isn't meditating.”

You had heard everything, seen everything within his mind. He was falling down a rabbit hole and getting progressively more angry rather than calming himself down.

Kylo growled, low and guttural, and then his eyes shut as he concentrated. It was usually so easy to clear his mind for up to hours at a time, but right now it was the greatest challenge imaginable to maintain the state for even a minute. He focused outside of his body, pulling in measured breaths and exhaling as he listened to his heartbeat. Usually he would have fallen into a meditative trance by now, but his heart wasn't slowing as it should have. His mind was too active.

He floated in and out. Sometimes he could meditate so normally, and then all at once, a memory would flare back up, and he would feel himself falling back into his body. He could feel his fingers clench at his knees, feel the wispy curls at the back of his neck, feel his heart, yours. He could hear each of your breaths, hear your fingers tapping on the datapad as you sent more transmissions to Talia. Even the slightest of sounds felt like explosions.

And again, he was back in memories, being pulled and flung so far back that it made his head spin.

_He crouched low to the ground in the darkened hallway and poked his head in the doorway to see his parents sitting at a table along with Luke and Chewie. Luke had been visiting for nearly a week by this point, and these late night conversations had become longer and longer. Ben couldn't help but listen in each night, testing the limits of Luke's and Leia's ability to sense him being out of bed. At first, the conversations had been about catching up, about old friends and past adventures, but last night, Ben's name had come up. And then again and again over the hour that they sat over drinks._

_“He's not ready--”_

_“If not now, then when?”_

_“I don't know, but give him a childhood, at least. Back me up, Chewie.”_

_“Aaarrrppllllrrrrrr.”_

_“No!”_

_“At_ some _point, Han, he'll need training. You've already seen evidence...”_

_Luke paused, and his light blue eyes slowly glanced toward the doorway, and he let out a sigh. “Ben is out of bed again.”_

_Ben backed up as quickly as he could on hands and knees and tripped as he ran back down the hall, bashing his knee against the tile floor._

The pain radiated through Kylo's right knee, and his anger flared like gas poured on a fire. He let out a bellow and slammed his fist against the wall. With a hiss, he flung his hand at the wrist, already anticipating a few broken blood vessels along the side of his hand.

You looked up from your datapad and bit at your lip as you watched Kylo wind down from whatever memory had just popped up. So many had flooded through over the past two hours of his meditating that you had tried to close the Bond and just concentrate on your own work.

“Are you going to explain what's tearing you up inside?” you asked as Kylo crossed the room and threw himself onto the bed beside you. He cringed, fingers digging into the blankets.

“You're asking questions whose answers will leave you worse off,” he replied. He begrudgingly pulled himself from the blankets to sit up and take a long look at you, his fingers resting beneath your chin to inspect your face. Why did you always look so exhausted lately? Circles hung under your eyes, and a certain sparkle was gone from your skin. You looked older. Wearied. Had he caused all of this? Kylo swallowed hard, frowning. He had never meant to drag you down with him, but so things went.

“I understand that Snoke left you with a mission,” you said. “Some part of your training to push you into the Darkness.”

“And you hate it, don't you?” he asked, looking away with a grimace.

You nodded. “Yes. The Dark side of the Force, this mission, your pain. All of it. But I'm still here for you, no matter how conflicted. Don't forget that.”

Kylo's fingers were still beneath your chin, and he gently tilted your face so that it was closer to his. Those dark eyes were staring into your own, taking in every inch. He moved forward, just brushing his lips against yours.

“Stay with me,” he whispered. You weren't exactly sure what he wanted—whether he meant to stay with him at this moment or for longer, through this current crisis or whatever would come to pass. But you knew that you would. Regardless of what was to occur, you would remain with him.

“I will,” you replied, and he kissed you in earnest with both hands at your face.

And for a brief moment, you let yourself relax. You tangled your fingers into his thick hair and enjoyed the kiss, enjoyed him, enjoyed the feeling of being so integrally connected without the past coming up to haunt--

_A flicker. A face. A hand reaching out to grab Ben's. Tears blurring vision. Another face. A Jedi temple. Bright green grass and miles upon miles of clear sky. More tears._

Kylo pulled away from your kiss, and his hands leapt to his face. He roared out a yell of frustration. Could he not have a _single fucking moment_ without thinking about his parents? About Luke? About this mission and what he had to do? _Everything_?! He screamed—screamed so loud that you covered your ears and could feel the air vibrating with the Force. His fingers grabbed at his face, at his hair, at the blankets so roughly that his fingers were tearing through the looped stitches.. And the same tears from the memory were now pouring from his eyes as he yelled out. The blanket in between his fingers was now ripping, the knitting pulling away and unraveling as he threw it down to the floor.

He turned away from you with his back heaving in sobs, and his hands were back at his face. You reached forward, touching at his shoulders as he wept. He wasn't just crying, not just sobbing, but fully weeping because he felt so broken, so shattered. He didn't speak a word, not even through the Bond, but you knew that this was killing him, was eating him from the inside out. All of these memories, the tasks upon him, the stress—it was truly destroying him.

“Kylo,” you whispered while taking him into your arms. He was trembling and refused to move his hands from his face, but he let you hold onto him—let you wrap him in a blanket that _wasn't_ destroyed and run your fingers through his hair in soothing circles.

You held him like that for hours. Held him as he shuddered in your arms and eventually fell asleep. Held him as his nightmares rushed through the Bond so that you were trapped inside of his mind whilst never falling fully asleep. Those fevered dreams kept you up. His tears kept you up. Even as you lied beside him, seeing flashes of memories and nightmare, you stared up at the ceiling without drifting off once. It was like having some sort of double vision. One set of eyes saw the darkened quarters and the stars outside of the viewport. The other pair watched the deaths of Jedi and civilians. Saw children massacred. Saw rain pouring down in darkened sheets against the hooded figure of Luke. You could hear the echoes of screams. And through it all, you could feel Kylo's pain. Regrets. And hidden deep down where he wished to ignore it: remorse.

By morning, you were so drained and weakened that you could hardly move, could hardly think straight. Kylo awoke without feeling rested, but he was at least in better shape than you were. You watched as he moved a hand over your face, and your eyelids slowly closed. You felt yourself falling backwards through space as though leaving your own body, and it was in that way that the Force worked through your consciousness to bring every thought to a halt.

You slipped into a dreamless sleep as Kylo held you. He was so incredibly disappointed in himself for how he was treating you... for how everything was coming to play—all over a map and revenge. Kylo wrapped the blankets around you and adjusted your head on the pillow with a gentleness that his fingers were not accustomed to. He was made to kill; not to comfort. But he could try. He moved strands of your hair back into place, brushing it from your face.

His heart was so heavy. It hurt to even look at you sleeping there in an unnatural peace. In that moment, he loathed himself more than anything—hated every single part of his being. And as he lied back down beside you, he whispered into your ear. Whispered about how angry he was, about how he couldn't stand himself, about how he never knew whether he was to follow a path into Darkness or toward the Light or neither at all.

And in the end, he sang breathy songs into your ear. He sang sad songs, lullabies. The tunes faded in and out as he forgot words or choked. Thank the stars that you were in such a deep sleep that you wouldn't hear him try to comfort himself through the pain.

Yes, thank the stars that you couldn't hear.

Couldn't hear his songs. Couldn't hear his plans.

Couldn't hear him plot out just how in the hell he would go about killing the man who had raised him. The man whom he had once called 'Father'.

_Han Solo._

* * *

**Glossary:**

_Lumbar Puncture:_ also known as a spinal tap, this is the process of placing a needle into the spinal column in the lower back and getting a few mL of cerebrospinal fluid. It's not as scary as it sounds, though there is a risk of getting a brief headache afterward. The spinal fluid can be analysed for all sorts of things, though I am familiar with it being used to measure antibodies in encephalitis or APOE3 proteins in Alzheimer's Disease research. If you would like to learn more about lumbar punctures, the Knight Alzheimer's Disease Research Center has a [great PDF about it](http://knightadrc.wustl.edu/About_Us/PDFs/Lumbar_Puncture_Fact_Sheet.pdf), and it's what I shared with research participants when I interned there.


	32. Starkiller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word comes from a First Order aligned spy that the BB unit is on Takodana, inside of Maz Kanata's castle with Han Solo. Hux delivers the message to Kylo Ren, which should be good news but also serves to push him ever further into confused despair. Kylo seeks guidance from the only one who can truly help him, and you watch on, fully realising just how terrible you have been at choosing a side in this war. Because you have—you have chosen a side. And you have chosen wrong.

**Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dx_DcK4tAyU&list=PL0PGmOE0Guha_PtnKpdtULffmmPvLZK1w)

* * *

Bazine Netal cracked her neck, feeling the sore muscles ripple beneath her skin-tight black hood. She stretched forward whilst leaning against an assassin, watching the people go by in Maz Kanata's castle. Takodana was the most beautiful planet she had ever seen, and yet here she was inside a cantina with this alien. She could have been smelling the fresh air, feeling green grass beneath her black fingertips, watching how her deeply tanned skin contrasted against the blue of the sky. But the disgusting alien that scratched at her back every time he moved had hired her for the week. It was something between protector and confidant, though she would have been just as pleased with strangling him in his sleep.

Though that didn't bring in money, and spying for the First Order had been rather dry lately.

She watched as a few new patrons filtered into the bar, keeping her dark eyes on the older man who led mere children behind him. He was familiar; Bazine had seen him before. Not at _this_ cantina, but at others. She couldn't remember his name. Was it Hanson? No, that didn't sound right. Something shorter.

“Do you remember his name?” Bazine asked the alien assassin as she leaned against him. She flicked her finger toward the door, but before the alien could respond, Maz Kanata was yelling out across the cantina.

“HAN SOLO.”

The cantina was silent for a moment. _Ah, yes. That was his name._ And then the chatter started up again as Han and Maz met, their voices now inaudible among the humm of the crowd.

Bazine watched as the group sat at a table, Han and Maz holding conversation as the young woman and man with them started to eat. This shouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, but years spent as a mercenary and spy told her to pay attention. _Don't just watch. Analyse. Feel what they are doing._ Her eyes narrowed, watching an orange and white BB unit scuttle across the floor and bump continuously against the leg of the young man. Someone was after that BB unit. Just that morning, she had read a First Order report about a bounty on anyone's head who was in its possession.

She glanced at the alien whom she was leaning against and then led his gaze to the BB unit. He nodded; there was no doubt that he had read the same report. It was just unfortunate that Bazine's current contract didn't allow for her to go after the unit herself. It was a load of shit. Why had she even accepted the assassin's deal to protect him? He could protect himself.

_Fuck him._

“Excuse me,” she whispered and slipped away. Just because she couldn't go after the BB unit herself and collect the reward for the man's head didn't mean that she was completely powerless. Speaking into her comm, she connected to a number that would inevitably lead straight to the First Order. She may not have been on the First Order's employee list, but being a spy in their favour meant that she always had a way to contact them. Not to mention that it provided a steady flow of credits rolling into her account when her valuable information reached the ears of the general.

“I've found your droid,” Bazine murmured, low and in a language no one else in the cantina would understand. So many of them only spoke Basic, and even if they didn't, Bazine's comm would go undetected. She was sure of that.

Grinning, she could already feel the credits _clink clink clink_ ing in.

“Takodana, with Maz Kanata. Come and get it.”

* * *

General Hux's lips curled into a smirk as he read the transmission sent from a First Order ship only a few hours away. So the droid and that damned map piece were on Takodana? Ren would be happy to hear about it. Maybe the news would calm him down for the first time in days. Or at least perhaps his behaviour would be slightly less erratic once he had solid evidence to act upon. Either way, it couldn't have come soon enough. Hux would take _anything_ at this point to keep Kylo Ren out of his hair when there was so much to be done. Today was the day of the big reveal; he didn't need a distraction.

“Ren,” he called from down the hall, Hux's long legs moving quickly toward Kylo Ren who had been speaking with you at the doorway to his quarters. Kylo turned to raise an eyebrow. His helmet was held under his arm with his other hand beneath your chin, a finger stroking at your cheek. You were still dressed in pyjamas, just hardly awake but intent on telling Kylo goodbye before he left to do whatever it was he had planned—probably destroying necessary operations equipment, no doubt.

Hux gave you a nod as he turned to Kylo. For a moment, the general hesitated, his instincts telling him to whisper the transmission's message into Kylo's ear, but his eyes fell on you again. What was the damn point? You would hear everything within seconds whether he spoke aloud or not. He wasn't stupid. He knew about the Bond. He had known ever since Stratoveer's attack. Besides, he trusted you.

“Your droid has been found on Takodana,” Hux informed. “And I assume you understand who else is there.”

Han. FN-2187. The girl.

Kylo smiled, but the emotion didn't meet his eyes. “Then undock the _Finalizer_. I'll be leaving immediately.”

“A pity that you'll be missing my grand reveal of the Starkiller Base's capabilities,” Hux sighed. He turned toward you. “Though you are welcome to stay at the base to watch--”

“No, she will remain with me,” Kylo interjected, and his arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders.

“Do I have a say in this?” you asked, crossing your arms and glaring from Kylo to Hux and back.

Kylo looked slightly taken aback but nodded. _It's your choice, but I would prefer your presence on board with me—not watching Hux listen to himself speak before the Troopers and play with his toys._

You rolled your eyes, and even Hux seemed to know that Kylo had sassed him through the Bond. Truthfully, you had anticipated staying aboard the _Finalizer_ where you had been for the past few days, so you were fine with remaining there as it took off from the Starkiller Base and made its way back into space and now apparently to Takodana. But you still wanted at least a sliver of autonomy in the matter.

Hux gave an exasperated sigh, knowing full well that you had already made the decision to stay with Ren. It really shouldn't have surprised him. “Well then... Remain aboard. As for me, I'll be on Base. If all goes to plan, then both of you will see the results of the reveal whilst travelling to Takodana.”

Your eyebrows narrowed. Admittedly, you knew nothing about whatever weapon he had had in the works all these months. You knew that it was massive and had something to do with the entire planetary base, but that was about it. “It will really be that large?”

Hux nodded and was smirking as Kylo let out a groan from beside you.

“It's compensation,” Kylo growled.

Hux's smile flashed into barred teeth. “Watch it, Ren. Find your blasted map, and leave the larger scale weaponry to me.” He spun on his heels, already marching his way back down the hall to exit the _Finalizer_ and remain on the Starkiller Base.

“Gladly,” Kylo huffed under his breath. “The map is more important anyway.”

Kylo leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers back on your face. He was taking in deep, slow breaths. This should have been the best of news, but instead he was conflicted. It wasn't just the map that he would be facing on Takodana but much more.

“You don't want to face Han, do you?” you asked in a hushed whisper.

He didn't answer but grimaced, and you could feel the strain of his teeth grinding together—could feel the pain in your own jaw. Kylo Ren knew what lied ahead. He knew who he had to kill, and in this moment, it became so real that he thought he would vomit. A rolling weight was in his stomach, clenching and writhing.

“I have to face him,” Kylo replied after a while. It was now or never. This was the day. This was the time. Kill Han. Grab the girl and the droid. Leave. There were no other options. He would do as Snoke commanded and then enter fully into the Darkness. “But I fear what will become of me.”

You could feel every ounce of his fear. It wasn't so much the pain and hurt inflicted by Han, wasn't even the idea of facing his father that was tearing into him. It was something else. It was the Darkness.

By this point, you were fairly certain of what Kylo had planned. You knew it wasn't just a matter of _facing_ Han. You smelled death on Kylo's mind. It lingered around the edges of memories of Han. Han Solo did not have long to live, and you were sure that Snoke had commanded as much. And now it was becoming increasingly obvious that Snoke had commanded it to cement Kylo's place in the Dark side of the Force. And my God, did you hate it.

“You don't have to kill him,” you whispered. “You--”

“NO,” Kylo cut off. His voice was a hiss like a wounded animal. “I have to... That's not in question.”

“Then...”

“What _is_ in question is what it will do to me afterward. What it will do to _you_. To us.”

A shiver rolled down your spine, your stomach sinking as his had just before. “What do you mean?”

He spoke words of poison. “Do you really believe that I will have enough access to the Light to not destroy everything that we have built together?” His fear was seeping into you. Stars, he wanted your Light at that moment, and he hoped to every entity that could hear that it would stay with you. That you could stay Light. That you could be the balance to the Darkness that was coming to attack him, to take control. Maybe you would remain the opposite. Maybe it would all equal out. And just _maybe_ there would be enough Light still left in him after going through with Snoke's plan that he could stay close to you and be recognisable as his former self.

But Kylo Ren also knew that it was time to rid himself of the Light. It wasn't going to help him become more powerful. It wasn't going to help him defeat the Resistance and destroy the New Republic.

“I hate this!” he snapped with another hiss. His fingers were digging into your shoulders as he held onto you for dear life. “All of this! This pull back and forth.”

“You already know my opinion on the matter,” you mentioned. _Grey._

“I can't be,” he whispered.

Kylo pulled his forehead from your own and stared into your eyes, wanting to memorise them, wanting to focus on them instead of the pain that tried to rip from his chest and destroy everything in its path. “I need to consult someone... I need guidance.”

 _Yeah, no shit_.

He grimaced, hearing you. “You really don't know the half of it.”

Kylo grabbed your hand and led you back inside of his quarters. Any of his plans for the day could wait. For now, he needed to speak with you, needed to speak with the ghosts of the past and face all of the memories that were beating at the inside of his skull to be set free. He sat you on the edge of the bed and crashed beside you, face in the palms of his hands.

You patted his back, fingers dancing across his shoulders. “So... what's the plan?”

“Take the droid and the map piece. Kill him.”

You cringed. “What about the girl? You don't have to kill her.”

“And I won't.”

Your eyes widened. Honestly, you had predicted the fate of the girl to lead to a fight—that Kylo would be determined to destroy her along with Han—so it was a shock that she wouldn't be on his list of those to kill.

Kylo continued. “I have no qualms with killing the traitor that they're with and anyone else with them. I'll even kill Han. But she comes alive along with the map.”

Speaking of the girl set something off within Kylo, and he gripped at his hair, pulling in a jagged breath. You could see images flash through his mind, so much of it becoming familiar.

Luke passed through in a vision, leaning against a doorway with crossed arms as he sighed. Such a gentle sound. His sandy blond hair was only beginning to grey, and it fell over his eyes as he looked down at Ben. His mouth moved but the words were silent within the rush of the memory. You knew that he was scolding, but there was nothing else as the memory corroded as though being eaten away by acid. The Dark sides of the Force were flaring within Kylo Ren, tearing at the memory. And then the Darkness abated as another memory floated by of a tiny girl, her brown hair falling in wispy waves around her face as she reached out. Light flooded the memory, flooded your vision. You blinked, no longer seeing the room in front of you nor the memories. There was nothing but bright, white light, as though you were trapped in a mist. You reached your hand out, trying to feel anything aside from the cool air of the room, and Kylo's hand caught your own.

All at once, the light was gone, and you blinked to see Kylo's quarters back before you as though nothing had happened. You glanced at Kylo who was watching you intently, his hands wrapping around your own and bringing them back to your lap.

“I'm being pulled,” he whispered. “And I'm fighting with every single part of me to follow into the Darkness where I _have_ to go. Don't argue with me about it, either. I know that you want to. But I _need_ the Dark sides of the Force if I am going to finish this mission. The Light will only weaken me; it won't allow me to access the full extent of my powers, and Snoke has _everything_ planned. _Everything_. If I listen... if I am strong enough then... Then I can complete this and...”

Kylo trailed off. He didn't know what he really wanted to say and groaned, eyes facing the floor and head hanging with his hair over his face. There was too much in his head. Too many thoughts raced about in every direction as he tried to determine where he should go. Should he hold on to the Light that was punching through? Should he kill the Light along with his father so that the Darkness could truly be his? Why was this so difficult?

“I need to speak with... with my grandfather. I need him to guide me to where I must go. I've strayed so far.” Kylo still didn't face you but squeezed your hand in his own.

You were confused for a moment. His grandfather was dead. Darth Vader was _long, long_ dead. “Do you mean to pray to him?” You had heard before of people speaking through prayer to the dead for guidance and relying on ancestral help. Perhaps that was what helped Kylo when in need. But he shook his head.

“No. No, you'll see.” He slowly stood and pulled you up with him. Kylo pulled his helmet onto his head and crossed the room. He hit a long string of numbers onto a keypad beside his door, but instead of the main door opening, a hidden panel against the metal wall slid to the side, leading to a dark hallway that was just wide enough for one person to go through at a time. Kylo led the way, holding onto your hand the entire time as the darkness increased.

“Kylo, where--”  
“--to a _sanctuary_ of sorts.”

The darkness of the hall began to fade, and you could just make out a dimly lit room ahead. There was a seat situated in the middle of the room, and Kylo let go of your hand to sit there and face toward a pedestal with a dark cloth placed ceremonially over an object.

“You have wondered what this is,” Kylo began. “You have nearly seen it twice, but it's an artifact that I keep with me. It's priceless. It's...” He didn't finish but pulled the cloth from the pedestal so that it fell in rolling drapes to the floor. You sucked in a shocked gasp from the arched hallway, not daring to move a step further into the room. You weren't sure what you had expected to see, but it certainly wasn't this, and you could feel the terror and revulsion punch you squarely in the chest.

Sitting on the pedestal was Kylo Ren's most prized possession—the marred and tangled helmet of Darth Vader.

“Kylo... That's...”

“Yes.” He nodded and then faced the floor in silence. There was nothing he could say to you—nothing to lessen the fact that he owned his grandfather's helmet and revered it, spoke with it, sought its guidance as though Vader could speak through it to deliver the needed advice to set him on a straight path.

“Forgive me,” he said, but it was not to you. “I feel it again... the pull to the Light.”

You watched in silent horror as Kylo spoke, feeling his words before they could spring from his mouth. He yearned so much to hear his grandfather respond—to hear Darth Vader or to feel something, _anything_ that would help him.

“Supreme Leader senses it,” Kylo continued. “Show me again... the power of the Darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way. Show me, Grandfather.” _Show me something that isn't the Light. That isn't_ her _Light._ Their _Light. Something else. Please._

Kylo cringed, and he hated in that moment that you could even hear his thoughts, but he finished. “...And I will finish what you started.”

 _I will kill who you would kill. I will bring order. I will right the wrongs of the Jedi and those who would represent the Light side of the Force._ “...Please...”

For a few minutes, you both stayed in place, completely silent. Kylo slipped into a brief meditation, allowing ideas to flow freely through his mind without ever settling fully into awareness. He was artificially calm though still in just as much pain at not knowing what to do nor how to go about this mess of a mission. And as he contemplated how to move forward, you stayed in the dark hallway, trembling and feeling your skin break into gooseflesh. The sight before you was terrifying. That was Darth Vader's helmet. _Darth. Vader._ And reality was crashing down around you. Kylo Ren—the person you loved more than anyone—sought guidance from history's most evil tyrant. What a deeply flawed individual it was that you loved. And what a deeply flawed individual it was that _he_ loved. And, perhaps, you were just as flawed as either of them, too.

_I'm just as flawed. Just as terrible. Just as Dark._

Kylo heard and faced you for the first time in nearly ten minutes. “You're wrong.” He stood and crossed to you, removing his helmet and looking down at you with eyes that had been dripping tears beneath the helmet. “On all counts, you're wrong.”

He started to guide you back down the curved hall, his hands at your waist as you led the way through the dark.

“We're both flawed, Kylo,” you mentioned as he opened the hidden door leading back into his quarters. “You can't deny that.”

He shrugged, feeling slightly more sure of himself than he had before consulting the remains of his grandfather's helmet. “Your flaws are surface deep. Scratches. Mine cut to the bone.”

He walked forward into his quarters and turned to you, arms wide open. “You believe that you're a terrible person simply for loving me. Ha! For showing even an ounce of love for someone like me, you would think that you have landed into Darkness? You don't know anything of the Dark. You don't know anything but the Light that courses through your body and tries to attach to me every time we touch.” Each word was so bitter, and you could feel the ache rattle through him.

“I know more than Light,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. You didn't want to match his bitterness. “This Bond gives plenty of insight into the Darkness. It's how I've learnt to despise it so quickly.”

“Then you despise me.”

You groaned, punching a fist down at your side as though it could make you more powerful—make him believe you. “I don't despise _you._ I _love_ you. Stars! I love you! But this constant onslaught of Darkness would seek to remove you from me all together, and I know that you fear this! I know that you are _terrified_ of having the power you seek because you _know_ how it will destroy you. You _know_ that you are trading a brief moment of unimaginable power for a downfall that no one can stop. I've seen your mind enough to know—I've seen what you predict. I can see it even now.” You stepped closer, your hands on his chest as he grimaced. “The Dark side of the Force... Snoke... This mission... They are knives, and they will kill you. Ruin you. You have survived so much. _So incredibly much_. Don't let them be your undoing.”

Kylo's head hung low, eyes closed and a lump residing in his throat. “You know what I have to do.”

You shook your head—not disagreeing with the knowledge of his orders, but because you couldn't stand the thought of him going through with it all. More blood on his hands, especially the blood of his father, was too much of a burden. It was going too far. He would never recover from the blow—from the damage he would inflict upon his own soul.

Kylo stood there for a moment, wanting to hold you and say that he would never succumb so easily, but that would be such a lie. And you were right. You knew everything. He tried desperately to push Han from his mind for at least this moment and focus on the girl. Focus on the map.

“I'll go to Takodana. Grab the droid. The girl,” he finally said, and his arms slowly wrapped around you. He wanted to promise you so many things, but he couldn't. He couldn't even promise _himself_ anything. Kylo Ren was lost, was tortured, was internally screaming through his pain as he was pulled one way and another by the two greatest forces of the universe—love and power, manifesting in the Light and Dark. Never had he felt such misery in his life as he did now. Never had he felt so broken and shattered. Snoke's final mission into the Darkness was eating him alive, and yet he still had reserved the strength to protect you. You were so fragile beneath his fingers. He could have crushed you, could have killed you in an instant if you were a stranger. But you weren't. You were the love of his pathetic life, and he would do almost anything to keep you there at his side. At this moment, that meant temporarily ignoring the voice that said to kill. It meant pushing back the Darkness for an hour or two before harnessing it to its full potential in unseen and terrifying ways. It meant focusing on the map and the girl once he landed on Takodana so that, just maybe, Han could escape and leave Kylo Ren without a decision to make at all.

“All else,” he whispered, “we will leave to fate.”

* * *

The _Finalizer_ left for Takodana at top speeds with Storm Troopers dashing this way and that under the authority of Kylo Ren. Captain Phasma would have been aboard to lead her troops, but General Hux had specifically requested her presence on base during his speech. Apparently he needed an entourage, and though Talia was perfectly willing to stand behind him, Hux was too certain that she would laugh as he grew more passionate. Why he thought that messing with her was a good idea was beyond him. Talia was like an exotic snake that kept slithering into his quarters, and he was an exterminator too enthralled by her beauty to do anything about it.

Hux groaned whilst leaning against the plate metal wall of a hall leading to the open air deck where he would present his speech. Captain Phasma stood beside him and gave a minute twitch as he sighed.

“General...”  
He raised a gloved hand and adjusted the great coat that rested on his shoulders. It was already so damned cold, and he wasn't even out in the elements yet. But when was he _not_ cold?

Hux peered out of the open hallway where he could see endless rows of Troopers, all at ready to listen. Toward the sides of the deck were staff members and high ranking personnel in their coats—not in the same precise order as the Troopers but close enough. No one would be focusing on them. Their eyes would be on him, on Phasma behind him and the few other Captains worthy of a spot near the best General this system had ever seen.

He caught eyes with Talia as she stood to the side behind a row of lieutenants, her curly, mahogany hair blowing about in the wind and snow. Talia winked from her position on deck, and Hux turned back toward Phasma with another groan.

“Are you ready?” she asked whilst straightening her posture.

Hux swallowed hard and adjusted the black military cap atop his bright red hair. “As ready as I shall ever be. Today, the New Republic meets its match.”

* * *

You could hear Hux's voice carry over the _Finalizer_ 's intercom system, playing in every room, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the ship. His words echoed angrily against metal and marble, but it was what you had come to expect from the general. He was a man of spit fire and venom, all wrapped in a thin layer of ice. Never was Hux one to half-ass anything, but this speech went above and beyond anything you had heard him deliver before. It was a raw sound that snapped in and out of the intercom, as feral in rhetoric as Ren was in physical fury. At each pause of Hux's voice, you could feel a shiver roll down your arms and spine. So this was what it was to listen to a speech during war—during a war that you didn't understand and didn't agree with but had somehow found yourself in the middle? It was an experience that you weren't keen to repeat.

Kylo Ren leaned over a set of controls in the bridge and looked out of the triangular viewport toward the base. He couldn't actually _see_ the base; the _Finalizer_ had travelled too far to be within sight. But even with his helmet on, you knew that his eyes were focused on where the base should be. He remained silent during the speech, but the anticipation was building within him. Starting as a small fluttering, now it was a roaring lion of anxiety and fear that heightened with the quick beating of his heart.

You slid your hand over to his, feeling the cool leather beneath your fingers.

“What is it...”

General Hux's voice was back over the intercom, louder than ever. “TODAY IS THE END OF THE REPUBLIC!”

“--Kylo.”

“THE END OF A REGIME THAT ACQUIESCES TO DISORDER!”

“What is about to happen?”

Kylo flinched just as a bright, red light flashed between the stars and shot forward in a straight line. Coming from the direction of the base, the light sped forward, separating out into five distinct beams that illuminated the entirety of the bridge. What had been pitch black now glowed like a midnight forest fire, burning into your eyes so that your vision was nothing but red.

Your hand instinctively covered your face, shielding your eyes from the light. Following the trajectory of the beams, you watched an explosion in the distance. An entire planet was shocked by the beams and burst into cosmic dust that glowed a brilliant orange against the empty field of space. The debris flew out in every direction for thousands and thousands of miles to leave a sphere of fiery mist that formed into a hazy ring.

You watched in horror, your heart clenching and fingers digging into your face. That planet... that was part of the Hosnian System. You recognised it from so many pictures—Hosnian Prime—the home of the Galactic Senate. Billions of people... _Billions_ had lived there. And now it was nothing more than a vapour. Every being, every structure was now a series of particles blasting ever further into the vacuum of space as you watched on, safe and sound in a ship that would promote such a weapon's use.

 _This_ was General Hux's great weapon. _This_ was what the First Order had been planning. This was it. This terrible red laser that still shot out in several other directions and caused the bridge to glow... This was murder. This was genocide.

You backed up on trembling legs, feeling your knees get weak as you crashed down onto the floor. The Force was rippling through the air, rolling in waves over your skin and pushing through to your chest to grip at your fluttering heart. It was the feeling of so many lives being obliterated. Your powers in the Force weren't _that_ strong, but my God, you could feel it. You could feel _them._ All gone. All dead.

And Kylo just stood there, still watching in silence. Your hands were covered in tears that you hadn't realised you were crying, and you wiped them on your trousers, swatting at the fabric as though it had the power to stop this—to stop the red light that still burnt your retinas and destroyed four further planets. Each explosion racked through your body like the first, punching until you were certain that there would be a purple bruise at your stomach from the force of it.

Tears continued to fall, dripping onto the cold, hard floor. You couldn't believe this was happening, and total, horrified disbelief filled every cell in your body. How could Hux use such a weapon? How could Kylo stand there and let it happen?

“How...?” You whispered and saw Kylo flinch again, his fingers gripping tight against the control panel. You _knew_ that he didn't like this. He could feel the death even stronger than you could, but he tried to accept it. He tried to hold onto that feeling of destruction and harness it. Perhaps their deaths could power him, feed the Darkness that was growing stronger by the minute. He wanted to relish in the pain of billions of lives coming to an end to see if it would push him ever closer to his goal.

“Kylo, why?” Why did he want to go so Dark and do this? Why did he _literally_ wish to become a being of evil? “WHY?”

He finally turned, his silhouette illuminated by the last red beam of light. “There is no other way.” _If I am to right the wrongs of this galaxy, then I need more power. This is another step toward_ \--

“LIAR!” you screamed. “Those were _civilian_ planets!”

“There is no such thing as a civilian planet.”

“YOU STAND BY AS THE FIRST ORDER MURDERS INNOCENT PEOPLE!”

“NO ONE IS INNOCENT!” he roared back.

You screamed out and bashed your fists against the floor with a sob. You wanted to strangle Kylo and stab Hux. So much anger was tearing through you, burning your blood, burning your brain. You still saw red, but it was no longer the beams—just your horror and sick, furious disgust. It was disgust not just at them but at yourself. You had firmly chosen a side, and you had done so poorly. The contract from all those months before was in your mind, its words on your tongue. The First Order was not just a side in a war.

It was the _wrong_ side.

You wanted to get up, wanted to feel your feet move beneath you and walk over to Kylo. Your fingers should have been digging into his tabard to drag him across the room—drag him away from the Darkness that never fully suited him.

“You want the Light, Kylo, but you're too damned terrified to admit it!” you cried out.

Kylo roared through his helmet, hands balling into fists. He was sickened at himself as he watched your back heave with each sob and your tears glitter against the dark metal floor. Everyone else on the bridge was silent. They had watched the red light in awe and now watched the interactions between both you and Kylo Ren, trying to understand what your problem was and why Kylo would allow for you to speak to him in such a way. You could feel them staring, their eyes drilling holes into your back and seeing straight through you. Were you the only one to feel any compassion? Aside from the tiny part of Kylo Ren that he was trying to suppress, they were all emotionless.

Somewhere deep down within him, he was just as horrified with himself, and he screamed again, cringing. You couldn't understand why he forced himself through this pain. Why wouldn't he let the Light live? Why wouldn't he come to his senses and be the person he wanted to be? Why couldn't he balance the Dark and the Light? Grey! Why couldn't he accept it? Why did he have to push himself to do the unspeakable when it only further crushed his soul?

Kylo Ren bent at the knees and reached forward, his fingers touching on your shoulder, but you slapped his hand away. You were too miserable to be touched by him. He growled and reached forward again to pick you up off the floor, and you were too sickened to speak or look at him. His arms stretched behind your knees and back to lift you like a dying bride, but you kicked away, falling back down to the floor on your bottom.

You hid behind your hands, sobbing even harder.

“Please...” He hurt so much. Kylo wanted to hold you and comfort you, and yet he knew that he was truly the problem here. The pain echoed through him and tore at his heart and lungs until he screamed out. It was such a furious roar of rage that the air quaked around him and sparks leapt from the control units along the periphery of the bridge—bright yellow electrical spasms that burned like stars against the dark viewports. He screamed like you had never heard before. The volume was too loud for the voice distorter of his helmet to pick up, and it came out in a series of electronic snaps of static. The entire bridge of the _Finalizer_ was rumbling with the Force because he was so full of loathing, of absolute gut-wrenching guilt.

The few personnel who had remained on the bridge were now running away, but you were stuck there, unable to move as the Force trapped you in place. It was paralysing, holding every muscle taught as you tried to move. Only your eyes were able to glance up to watch Kylo turn back toward the viewports. His head was tilted up, not looking anywhere, but his shoulders popped up and down in tiny spasms to indicate that he was crying beneath his helmet.

_I'm so sorry._

_No you aren't._

_Please..._

The Force spiked, growing so strong that it was painful, and your arms fell in front of you as you panted by instinct. But still, you could not move, could hardly think. Everything was painful as you felt all of Kylo's rage boil over into your own body.

You were faced toward the floor, your eyes only able to see your hands pressed against the metal and your tears, but you saw a small flutter of Kylo's tabard as he walked past you.

_I have to leave. Now._

That was all he said as he left the bridge, and the Force finally snapped from the room and dropped you completely to the floor. Lying on your side, you curled into a tiny ball, feeling both of your rage on your fingertips. The metal flooring beneath you warped, the grooves in the metal flattening and then rippling in small currents like water. This was the Force. This was the power that Kylo Ren sought, and here it was resting in your hands. Weak, but there. If you could control it in some minute aspect, then why did he need that Darkness? Why?

The question was breaking from your lips as you felt Kylo's presence leave the ship. He was on his own transport, heading for Takodana with the Troopers. Heading toward his father whom he didn't want to kill but would have to. Toward the map piece that would lead toward even more death and destruction.

Now was the time for him to leave. He had to use that anger and the Darkness that it provided if he was going to go after the people who stood in his way—if he was going to go after _that girl_ who kept dragging him to the Light alongside you.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, this was actually a joy to write. Heh heh heh.


	33. Different Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's interrogation causes you to flee the Finalizer as soon as it touches down to the Starkiller Base, and you run to meet with Amena and Talia, hoping that they will act as the distraction that you need from the horrors of Kylo Ren. But you are met with resistance as Phasma confronts you about the nature of the Force that you control. You fight such different battles, but she is determined to see you successful, and so you continue to flee. But you are not the only one on the run. Two others aboard the Starkiller Base are ready to leave for reasons of their own—one of whom is none other than Kylo's captive. Rey.

**Playlist:** [ Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcOnwLr9b50&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZP0DoM6Q09D-dy38lOeRC6)

* * *

 

Kylo Ren wasn't sure whether to consider himself the unluckiest man in the galaxy or just the most unrelentingly persistent, but he _did_ know that getting his hands on this map was sure as hell more difficult than he had planned. It had slipped through his fingers. _Again_. But what _hadn't_ slipped through his fingers was the girl. In fact, she had been _marvelously_ easy to capture. With just a flick of his wrist, the Force had locked her in place, and he had been able to swoop her up and carry her to the ship for further questioning. And perhaps this would work out for the best. She had most likely seen the map; it was only a matter of prying through that brain of hers to find out more.

You had watched most of the confrontation through the Bond. The fear in her eyes had been gut-wrenching. She was lost. Confused. Cornered. Kylo Ren had his lightsabre a breath away from her face, and he had reveled in seeing her so frightened. The weight in his fingers as he carried her had given him a strange, twisted joy, and you tried to block out the feeling of elation that twisted through your stomach. He was giddy—drunk on power and success; you were sickened. His anticipation at seeing inside of her head and pulling out the image of the map to Luke Skywalker was so overwhelming that you could physically feel him draw nearer to the _Finalizer_.

“You kidnapped her and knocked her out cold. Fantastic,” you hissed sarcastically as Kylo Ren stepped down the entrance ramp of his ship and onto the floor of the hangar. The girl was still unconscious and being dragged behind him by two Storm Troopers who continued on their way even though Kylo had stopped before you. They were no doubt taking her to the same interrogation room where Poe had been a couple of days before.

Even with his helmet firmly in place, you could tell that Kylo didn't want to meet your eyes.

“She has valuable information from the Resistance,” he said, as though that excused his actions. _And I at least kept my word to not kill her_.

“So now what? You find out what she knows and then...?”

Kylo gave a low growl and shrugged the stress from his shoulders. The Bond flickered for a moment, and you saw just a flash of the girl—not as she was today but as a small child. And then it abruptly cut off, leaving you with just a humming buzz of his emotions. That elation was back, bubbling through you so heavily that you could hardly think.

“We'll see what happens next,” Kylo answered, and he moved past you to make his way toward the interrogation room. You groaned and followed behind him.

_Why are you following me?_

“Why do you think?” you answered aloud. “To make sure that you don't harm her.”

_You aren't coming into the room with me._

“Oh, really?”

Kylo turned around in the middle of the hallway, his helmet just an inch from your face as he peered down at you. “No,” he hissed. “You will remain on the other side of those doors.”

An electricity was vibrating between both of you as you stared each other dead in the face. He was unrelenting, his word final, and you wanted to fight it but knew that there was no way that you would actually win this argument. He was playing a game of war, and you had no business in joining him.

You folded your arms and held your ground, but Kylo swiftly turned to leave, and within a few seconds, he had turned down the hall toward the interrogation room. For some reason, you didn't follow. You didn't even _try_. It felt too hopeless. And perhaps his anticipatory joy of getting his information was too strong within you and curbing your willingness to stop him. But rather than continuing down the hall after him, you meandered to a small alcove and slid your back down the cold metal wall until you were seated on the floor. Your arms were still crossed, and you looped them over your knees with a sigh.

This entire day was too long. The death and destruction caused by the Starkiller Base had left you broken and numb. And then there was the battle on Takodana, which you had seen in bits and pieces through Kylo's eyes. Then the kidnapping. Now an interrogation. What next? A battle brought right to your door? You wouldn't even be surprised by this point.

The _Finalizer_ was already making its way back to the Starkiller Base, and you could feel it shift to the next speed as it soared through space. Soon it would land on the Base, and you would be able to run like hell to your research to distract you from the perils of the day.

The Bond between you and Kylo Ren was still dark, quiet, but it was not _entirely_ shut down. You could still feel his emotions filtering through, and ever so slowly, the wall that he had built within the Bond began to lessen. It was crumbling, not as bricks being smashed, but like sand, slowly slipping to reveal what he saw, what he heard. You could see the girl in the interrogation chair, all strapped against metal with her head hanging limp against her chest. She took in slow, steady breaths as Kylo Ren knelt before her. Watching. Waiting.

Her eyes scrunched up, mouth turning into a grimace. “Where am I?”

“Does the physical location really matter so much?” You saw through Kylo's eyes, through the slit of his helmet, as he toyed with her. He called her his _guest_. Dear God, he was being so facetious, it made your head spin. Kylo was swimming through her mind as she stayed strapped to the chair, and you could hear every word that he thought—every word that _she_ thought.

 _Be very careful with this person._ She was trying to give herself a pep talk, and you wanted to reach through the Bond and scream at her. Scream for her to run, to hide, to get away from Kylo Ren at any cost. But instead you remained silent in the tiny alcove, your eyes squeezed shut as you took in Kylo's vision and journey through her thoughts. You felt what she felt. Felt her fear. Felt the intricacies of who she was. Her name. Rey. You could have taken anything from her mind. Or Kylo could have. Yes... _Kylo_ could; not you. And he could abuse that power.

“You still want to kill me,” he mused, and you felt bile rise to your tongue. Or was it to _his_ tongue? It was difficult to tell.

“That happens when you're being hunted by a creature in a mask.”

Kylo felt himself grinning and pulled off his helmet. The shock upon her face was its own treat for him. No one ever expected him to look the way he did—young, relatively good looking. You had reacted nearly the same way upon his first reveal all those months before in your apartment.

Kylo Ren circled around Rey for a while, grilling her about her traitorous friends, harassing her beliefs. Just generally being an arse. He was far too cocky as he held up a hand and dove into her mind. You saw what she tried to hide—saw a tiny island in a wide expanse of sea. You couldn't tell if it was her memory or wishful thinking, but it was there, as vivid as though you had just looked upon the place. How real. You stretched your hand forward and could almost feel the salty mist in the air, but all at once, you withdrew. You heard Kylo's voice once more, trying desperately to take the map from her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought against him. Was it really worth it? Worth torturing the girl for a damned piece of that map?

Rey struggled, her mind violent in temper as she fought to keep her memories, but Kylo tried harder. He pushed, both mentally and physically with the Force. He was so close. So incredibly close, and yet still so far away. How was she able to fight him off for so long? Damn it, she reminded him of _you_. A locked mind.

Then something snapped. Rey's face changed. No longer was she crying or scared, but she seemed amazed. She had pushed against him, and now she pushed back so hard that she flung herself into Kylo Ren's mind like a dagger through flesh. Her consciousness flew through tangles of neurons, picking through the most relevant information that she could find, and in the process, you felt her within your _own_ head. She couldn't have known that she soared through two minds, but for that small instant, she did, and your eyes fluttered open in shock as Rey slipped out of your brain and back into only Kylo's.

Her voice was distant from you as she spoke. “You... You're afraid!” Yes, yes you were. But she wasn't speaking to _you_. “That you will never be as strong as Darth Vader!”

Kylo ripped his hand from Rey and nearly fell back in shock, and at the same moment, you gasped for breath, not realising until then that you hadn't been breathing through the entire confrontation. You felt the stomach acid rise in your throat and swallowed down being sick. There wasn't enough time for something like that when Rey had just _gone into your damned mind_! You scrambled to your feet and crashed into the opposing wall of the hallway, still gasping and watching as sweat dripped from your brow. How had she done it? How was she so powerful? She was strong... strong in the Force. Had Kylo known? Was he prepared to face someone who could so easily jump into his mind and even yours? There were so many questions unanswered, and they terrified you.

Your legs started to carry you away, and you fought off the Bond. You didn't want it right now. You didn't want her getting back inside of your head. It was enough to have Kylo there all of the time, but a second person thrown into the mix? No. That was simply too much. Yet another set of emotions and thoughts would drive you insane.

You walked through the hallways, fighting off the Force with every footstep. The _Finalizer_ was slowing as it neared the Starkiller Base to dock, and you could not wait for it to land. The very moment that it came to a stop, you waited at one of the exists in a throng of Troopers. They completely ignored you as you shoved your way to the front, itching for the doors to open to the cold so that you could run through the hangar and escape this whole fucking ship before you lashed out.

A blast of icy air met your face as the _Finalizer_ unlocked its exits, and you left at top speeds down a ramp, through the massive hangar, and into one of the many halls of the Base. Footsteps echoed behind you as the Troopers went on with their business, but you kept running. At first, it had just been a mission to escape from the _Finalizer_ and Kylo Ren and Rey and anything threatening to get into your mind, but after a few minutes, you realised that you were headed to a familiar area. The medical wing was just ahead, and you barreled through, passing Dr Hermeyer as you made your way to Amena's room.

You weren't sure why it felt right to be here, but it did, and you knocked on the door to find that it was already partially open, and voices were hushed from inside. With caution, you opened the door to find Talia sitting on the edge of Amena's bed as Amena sat in a hovering medical chair beside her. Amena had been holding a set of physical therapy weights in her hands, but she was more concerned with Talia who was gently crying with her face pressed in her hands. At seeing the door open, Amena's hands leapt instinctively to tug her scarf over her hair with a surprised yelp, but she paused half way through the motion.

“Stars, you scared me,” she mumbled, letting the scarf fall back to her shoulders.

“Sorry.” You took a few steps in but paused. “Should I...”

“No, no,” Talia sniffed, waving you forward as she wiped at her face. “Stay here. Come in.”

You crossed the room to sit in an extra chair by the bed, forming a little triangle with the other two women. Talia smacked at her face, rubbing tears onto the bedding.

“I was just being ridiculous,” Talia mentioned. “Pissed at Hux. The usual.”

“You aren't alone on that front,” you said. Though you had a feeling that her anger was only directed at him ignoring her in lieu of work rather than having just committed an act of genocide. Honestly, you didn't know what to think of Hux after today's events. You were still numb to the terror that he had caused. Numb and yet also horrified. Sickened. You cringed just thinking about the red light that had flooded your vision and destroyed five planets and all of their inhabitants.

“I don't like what he did... Not at all,” you confessed. “I loathe it.”

“What? Firing off the Base to its full potential? That was always going to happen; it was just a matter of when,” Amena replied.

Talia nodded along. “It's war. It happens.”

You felt the anger roll through your spine and hold in your jaw. The tension in your facial muscles instantly made you appear older, feral. “He killed _billions_ of--”

“We understand,” Amena interrupted. “But you forget that we are part of the First Order in a way that you are not. Our allegiances are with the general and his decisions.”

“Even if you think that those decisions are morally wrong?”

Amena sighed and adjusted her posture in the hovering chair with a wince. There was still so much healing to be done. “What each of us consider right and wrong is subjective.”

“But that was _objectively_ \--”

Talia held up her had. “Stop. Just stop.”

You closed your mouth, grinding your teeth all the while. Deep down, you knew that there was never going to be agreement between the three of you. Talia and Amena were in just as deep as you were when it came to their positions in the First Order. All three of you were the trash girl-friends of the First Order, and the two of them had chosen a side long before you had arrived. They neither saw themselves as evil nor on the wrong side of a war. It was simply where they stood at this moment, and truly, they were more likely to see their own viewpoints as correct. They were no different from Kylo Ren. They were determined to see their ideas being put forward to correct what they perceived as wrongs. And what really made you any different? What actually made you correct?

Oh wait. Not endorsing genocide. _That_ probably made you correct.

But they weren't as obsessive about setting things right as Kylo was. They each saw their work as being significant toward advancing the overall goals of the First Order, but they also saw the benefits of their work on individuals. And it was difficult to look at the greater picture when you were so narrowed in on helping a single soul. How could you be enforcing evil when you were busy healing another?

You leaned back in your chair, staring up at the tiled ceiling as Talia continued to pour her heart out to Amena. Who knew for how long she had been doing this? Judging by the red rims of her eyes, she had been crying for a while.

“He's always doing this, though. I mean, I know work is important, but it's like he's actively avoiding me,” she cried. He probably was. “And it's not fair, because I love him...”

Both you and Amena met eyes for a second, neither one of you willing to tell Talia that the odds were stacked against her that Hux felt much of anything for her. And the way that Amena frowned told you that she knew _without a doubt_ that Talia's feelings were mostly unrequited. It wouldn't surprise you to find that Amena was being fed extra information by Captain Phasma.

Talia never noticed your exchange but looked over to the door as it moved forward just a bit with a small tap.

“Just me.” Phasma's voice came from the hallway, and the door opened. She looked at the little triangle that the three of you had made and frowned. None of you looked all that happy, which worried her. Especially considering that one of the three people there never quite left her mind.

Phasma seemed a little worse for wear, a little rattled, but she flashed a brilliant smile at seeing Amena for the first time that day. What a terribly busy day it had been, too. The generals and other captains had been driving her up the wall—particularly Hux as he got himself drunk on power at seeing the Starkiller Base be put to use. You caught her light blue eyes as she crossed the room to kneel before Amena, and her eyebrows tugged together at seeing you look so... _ruthless_. Fierce. You had a look like Ren upon your features.

She gave a sweet kiss to Amena's forehead but narrowed her eyes at you. “If looks could kill, I would be a dead woman, Doctor.”

“It's not _you_. I'm upset with the entire First Order, really. My loathing is for the weapon within this planet.”

Phasma nodded and turned to Amena, checking in with her for a moment. But then she glanced back at you and then toward the door, motioning for you to join her outside the room. You weren't sure what exactly she wanted, but you got up and grumpily made your way down the hall to a place where your voices wouldn't be picked up by anyone else in the medical wing.

Phasma kept her voice low, cautious. “I caught word of your... _reaction_ to the Starkiller Base being put to its full potential.”

You huffed out a groan, cringing that she would even bring up the subject. You were still in so much shock. “If you mean my utter disgust at its use? Yes. That occurred.”

You made to leave, but Phasma's hand was at your shoulder, gently turning you around. She bit at the inside of her cheek, and sighed. It was obvious that she didn't expect you to understand this war, but she wished that you weren't upset. She wanted to find any excuse in the world to set things straight.

“You don't have to make excuses, Phasma,” you mentioned, and she flinched. Had you accidentally read her mind? You weren't even certain; you honestly didn't know what you had control of any more. “I don't need excuses. I don't need explanations. Not for Hux's actions. Not for the First Order's. I just want to finish off my contract and pull Kylo away from this and then disappear. That's truly all that's on my mind at the moment.”

Phasma nodded, and when you started to walk past her and down the hall, she didn't reach out to drag you back. But her voice caught you off guard.

“It's interesting,” Phasma began, her light blue eyes finally meeting your own. “When I was on the bridge of the _Finalizer_ just a few minutes ago—checking damage caused by Ren's anger, assessing what happened from my personnel who witnessed the two of you... There was evidence of the flooring having been melted and reformed. One of my Troopers described it as being like the waves of water in a glass.”

You stopped in the middle of the hall, lips slightly trembling. “What are you getting at?”

Phasma took a few steps forward. “Well, I asked about the series of events on board, and a technician mentioned that the damage was directly beneath where you had sat. And that shouldn't have been interesting when considering that you were apparently caught in the cross-hairs of Ren's Force trap. Except that Ren has never once done such a thing. He lets sparks fly, destroys machinery, crushes metal without even touching it. He is _excellent_ at destruction. But reshaping the metal as something so fluid? Almost _artistic_? I don't think he's capable of it.”

Your fingers twitched, and you remembered the way that the metal moved beneath them just a few hours before. The action had taken such little effort that you had barely thought of it as being unique or memorable.

“You know that I am sensitive in the Force,” you said. Phasma didn't need to be asked; somehow, she had figured it out on her own.

“I had suspected as much, but the general was not willing to divulge any specifics pertaining to your abilities. Still, I've seen clearly for months that you were in the minds of others, whether you knew it or not.”

“Then you should know that I'm in Kylo's mind. A Force Bond. This shouldn't surprise you.”

“And it does not,” she replied with a nod. “Especially after seeing how close you both have become over the past few months. Everyone aboard the satellite base was aware, and I'm certain that word is spreading on the _Finalizer_ and even here on Starkiller Base of the nature of your relationship. The only thing that I _don't_ understand is what you're planning to do. You don't agree with the First Order—that much is clear. You despise the Dark side of the Force—that's also apparent. And yet you remain here, willing to finish the duty that you began. Why is that?”

You looked away and rolled your shoulders with a deep breath in. Phasma was so perceptive. Hell, it wouldn't have surprised you to find out that _she_ was Force sensitive at this rate.

“When I signed my contract, I did so as a neutral party. Obviously, I am no longer neutral; I've built opinions against the First Order that I had never anticipated. I inadvertently chose a side in a war, and I chose incorrectly. But at the same time, I'm still not on a _side_. I haven't aligned myself with anyone or anything except Kylo Ren. _He_ is the only one that I have chosen to stand beside. Him alone. If all else burned but him, I would still be content. I will fight for him. I will fight to pull him away from all of this. I will do whatever in the hell it takes to set him free. Any duty that I finish to the First Order is out of contractual obligation; do not mistake it as allegiance.”

For a moment, you stood directly before Phasma, neither one of you moving nor saying a word as you both remained in place like boulders. But then Phasma cracked a smile, and she slowly shook her head back and forth.

“You have fire in your blood. Just like Ren.”

“It's not fire. It's the Force.”

She shrugged. “Either way, I respect your courage. Your allegiance to him. You've cracked through his shell in a way I have never seen before, and not everyone is capable of that.” Phasma held out a hand to you, open and ready to shake your own. You stared down for a moment, not exactly sure what to do, but then you placed your hand into hers, and she gave a strong squeeze.

“We fight different battles, Doctor,” she said. “But I wish you the best in your endeavors. Maybe you'll be the one to beat some sense into Ren. Stars knows, the rest of us have tried.”

You gave her hand a squeeze back, shaking firmly. “We can only hope.”

Phasma gave a slow nod, and then she turned around for good to go back to Amena's room, leaving you standing in the hallway by yourself. You took in a deep breath with eyes closed, trying to figure out where to go, what to do. The entire Base was at your disposal, and you wanted nothing to do with it. You wanted to be back in your apartment, surrounded by books, petting Pickles as he purred on your lap. You wanted to hide under blankets. You wanted to see Kylo give an honest smile and to kiss him whilst lying in bed, not caring what happened around the two of you. The galaxy could pass by, and the two of you could remain there. Why couldn't that be reality? His decisions were so frustrating! Kylo was such a puppet to Snoke and the Force, and you wanted to cut the strings that attached to him, that tempted him to do everything that he despised.

You shook your head as you started to walk, not quite sure where you were going. If you had believed visiting Talia and Amena would make things better, you were wrong. You contemplated visiting the demented Storm Troopers for a while. Something about being around a bunch of people who had no idea who you were and never would seemed appealing. You could tell them what was happening and watch as they forgot everything you said. Maybe it would be no different from writing in a diary that no one would see. The idea was becoming more appealing, and you turned down the hallway that Lethe had shown you a few weeks before, already trying to recall the numerical code to get inside the locked memory care unit.

Except that the second you turned down the hallway, you bumped straight into the back of a lieutenant, knocking him forward a step as he was in the middle of angrily scolding another uniformed personnel about dress code—something about wearing jewellery and not being in regulation. You took a step back, immediately apologising, and he huffed in response.

“And where is _your_ uniform?” he hissed in your direction. Your eyebrows pulled together, confused as to why he was asking you that as though you worked here. As though you weren't about ready to punch everyone around you in the throat for even breathing in your direction.

But before you could say anything, you noticed just who it was that he had been scolding. Standing in only half of her uniform and then in a pair of completely non-regulation slacks was Deirdre. She snapped her fingers a few times at the lieutenant to focus his attention.

“She's not even part'a the First Order,” Deirdre said with her hands on her hip.

“Do not snap at me!” he spat toward her, and he turned back to you. “This area is off limits to civilians--”

“I am _not_ a civilian,” you snapped. This was the exact opposite situation than you needed at the moment. “And I won't be wearing your damned uniform.”

“How dare--”

“Leave. Her. Alone,” Deirdre hissed. She locked dark brown eyes with you for just a moment, and you knew without a doubt that she could tell you were dying inside. She gave a sympathetic smile and nervously tugged at a necklace that bounced against her chest. Then she focused back on the lieutenant and stepped within his personal space, face too close to his. It appeared that she was going to take a fall rather than you, bless her.

“O'Donovan, I swear to the stars--”

“Nah!” Her finger was pointed in his face, and she glanced at you as though to tell you to run. _Leave. Don't stay for this_. “Ya got no idea who she is, but I guarantee that yer in a world'a trouble if ya continue this. She's got friends at the top. I've seen 'em.”

“Is that a threat, O'Donovan.”

“Might be.” She looked at you again, eyes pleading for you to run, and you didn't need to be told out loud. Spinning around on your heels, you made to leave, but the lieutenant's hand grabbed at your left wrist, pressing into the stitches that had never quite healed properly.

You let out a yelp, feeling a rush of the Force within you, as though it was ready to protect you in a fight or flight situation. But you didn't get to use it. You didn't get to throw him off. Instead, Deirdre O'Donovan's long leg came crashing into the lieutenant's face, knocking him down to the ground.

“Son uva...” she cursed from above him as he tried to gain his bearings on the floor. Then she pushed you along. “Go back to yer doctor stuff. Back to that Rylo guy. I'll be fine.”

“Are you certain?” you asked, slightly out of breath and in shock that she would dare to kick a higher officer in the head.

Deirdre nodded, and her fingers were right back on her necklace, twisting it around in circles. “I got some tricks up my sleeve.” And she gave a wink, walking past you and then breaking into a run down the hall. You nodded and followed after her before the lieutenant could get back up on his feet.

“Where should I go!” you asked her. You weren't sure if you should hide out for a few hours or if she would be able to offer a better solution to your existential question, but there was some hope there.

Deirdre just shrugged as she ran. “I dunno. Get off this shit hole of a space station.”

“I wish,” you mumbled.

Turning down another hall, you both slowed, and Deirdre leaned against the wall, catching her breath.

“I can't believe you did that,” you mentioned between pants.

“I've done worse. Once broke my boss's leg in a bar fight.” She took in a deep breath and cracked her knuckles whilst staring down at you for a moment. “Ya wanna know where to go for real, though? Down this hall. Make a left. Another left after that. There's a little lounge there used by some staff. Not a nice lounge, mind ya. But none of the officers go in there. Lieutenant Shit-Bag won't find ya there.”

You gave a wane smile in her direction, and she gave you a hearty slap on the back in response.

“Take care'a yerself,” she hummed. And then turning down the hall, she disappeared from your sight, leaving you alone in an unfamiliar hallway. Slowly, you started moving forward, following her advice to make a left, which lead to a massive walkway overlooking a pit that ships could fly through. Across from the pit was yet another walkway, and Troopers passed by on their way to duties. You kept walking, keeping your eyes down on the ground or toward the pit to avoid their gaze.

You thought about Deirdre sacrificing herself for you even though you had only met twice and felt a pang of guilt. You didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve such random kindness after knowing what it was Kylo was going to do... after knowing what he had _done._ And just sitting by as he continued to do terrible things. Even at this moment, you could feel that he was up to no good. The image of Snoke kept creeping into your head, and you could taste Kylo's words on your tongue. He was speaking with his master at this very moment about the girl—about how powerful Rey was in the Force even whilst being untrained. He was furious and pained, and you sought to block the Bond again. His voice was too much in your head, and you walked faster to rid all of the noise from your being.

And that's when something caught in your periphery. A movement was inside of the pit, but it wasn't a ship or piece of machinery. Instead, it was moving slowly vertical, and you slowed your walking to watch as a person climbed from small rungs and toward a panel of the base's weapons. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the person climbing. It was the girl. It was Rey.

You stared, wide eyed in shock. How had she gotten out of the interrogation room of the _Finalizer_ and into the underbelly of the Sarkiller Base?

She glanced around and jumped to another little platform in an impossibly careful move. There was no way that she hadn't done something like this before. It was too practised. Too exact. She turned in your direction, checking over her shoulder but then catching your eye. For a second, both of you stared at one another, both surprised but knowing _exactly_ who each of you were. She had seen into your mind for only a few seconds, but it was enough. The connection was there.

_Run._

You mouthed the word to her, and she gave a quick nod before slipping inside of a wall-mounted weapons panel. And like that, she was gone.

_She escaped._

The words were on your lips, but you were afraid to utter them. Afraid to even think them. Kylo would be finding out so soon, and he was going to be furious. You had been blocking the Bond more or less for hours, but even as you tried to keep it shut at the moment, you knew that Kylo's anger would be able to break through if he knew. And it was only a matter of time. How long until he left his meeting with Snoke and went back to Rey? It couldn't be long.

You broke into a sprint, not caring what the passing Troopers thought. Forget them. They didn't know what kind of situation was on their hands at this very moment. You pushed yourself to run faster and faster until you got to the hangar and could run into the _Finalizer_. It was such a massive ship, but you knew right where to go.

Panting and with a stitch pulling at your sides, you skidded to a stop in a hallway. A roar of anger suddenly spiked through you. _Oh God, no!_ He had gotten there first. You were only another minute of running away from the room, but Kylo was there, and his anger exploded through the Bond, punching into your mind until it was physically painful.

You kept running and leaned against the open doorway of the interrogation room with your hands on your knees, trying desperately to pull in air. Kylo didn't even notice you as he crashed around the room, absolutely destroying the terrifying chair that Rey had been strapped to. Sparks flew from the room, and you shielded your face, not daring to move closer until the metal stopped flying in every direction. Kylo kept hitting away at the remains of the chair, and he was panting violently through his helmet. He shook, the lightsabre in his hand reacting to the trembling in snaps of plasma along the blade.

Nothing was left of the chair after another minute, and he looked down at the metal chunks on the floor, kicking a piece across the room so hard that it dented the wall. He turned off the sabre and shakily attached it to his belt, and that was when he finally noticed you standing behind him in the doorway. He groaned and slowly took off his helmet, letting it drop to the floor so that he could pull at his messy hair in stress and walk over to you.

He tried to collect himself for a moment for your sake, but his vision was red as blood. His mind was burning and fingers shaking through locks of hair. For a few seconds, he watched you, watched the way that your eyes widened at seeing him like this, at how your mouth twitched in its grimace, at how flushed you were from running such a long way. His head slowly cocked to the side, and his eyes widened to match your own. He was looking into your soul, your mind—breaking through your defenses and crumbling the wall that you had built in the Bond. He saw flashes of your memory, bright and brilliant, and his mouth echoed your command that you had given Rey. _Run_.

“You saw her...”

You shook your head, wishing that you hadn't just given away seeing Rey. “Yes.”

He quickly crossed the room so that he was directly before you, and Kylo placed both hands on your temples. At first, it reminded you of what he would do if he needed to pier inside of your mind, but things weren't so simple. Feeling defeated, you opened up the Bond, and he took a deep sigh at feeling fully connected to you again. He had missed it.

“You did,” he whispered. “She's on the Base.” Kylo grit his teeth for a brief moment but then relaxed. He placed his forehead against yours and took in a few deep breaths, still trying to remain calm. His mind was an active tangle of memories—both yours and his own. And then there were tiny images that were neither. He was looking through the Force, viewing things unseen. You could sense that there was something other than just Rey's escape that weighed his mind, and you looked further.

Snow. Snow twisted in the wind and was blown back. Chunks of ice sprayed against the sky like brilliant, white shrapnel. It was an explosion of snow that whipped through the air as a carrier skidded to a stop on the precipice of a gorge. The snow settled along with the now stopped ship, and all was silent save the howling wind.

It wasn't a memory, but you realised that this was happening. Happening _right now_. Kylo's hands were trembling against your forehead in response, and he pulled in a sharp, pained breath.

“He's here.”

“Who?”  
Kylo's voice was low, a pained whisper. “Han Solo.”

You felt your heart quicken, and your hands leapt to his face to make him look at you. “You don't have to do this!” you pleaded. His eyes weren't meeting yours, but you kept trying. “You don't have to do _anything_.”

Stars, he wanted to believe you. But this was the only way that he could truly move forward into the Dark side. It was now or never. He had been given his commands, and whether he liked it or not, he had to move toward them. And for a split second, you could hear a terrifying thought rumble through his mind.

_Snoke said that it is between you or him. I am weak... I must purge what keeps me from the Darkness, and I have made my choice. I will do what I have to._

Your breath was caught in your throat, and Kylo leaned forward to kiss you. Such a hungry, needy, passionate kiss. His lips were on your own as though he never wanted anything more for the rest of his life, but his heart was sinking into his stomach. Kylo sensed that there was something different about this kiss. It felt final. It felt more important than anything else that you had ever shared. He didn't want this to end, but he forced himself from you to pull in another sharp breath as though he was trying to keep from releasing a sob. He let his forehead fall back to your own.

_I love you._

You spoke aloud, your voice cracking. “I love you, Kylo.” Your throat felt as though it was closing in on itself, breaking your voice even further. “I love you, and I love you too much to see you do this.”

Within a second, you were crying, deep sobs pulling from your chest and causing your entire body to shake. Kylo gently wiped at one of your tears with his gloved hands, his dark eyes staring at the tears that glistened against the black leather. Then he pulled you into a hug, his hand against the back of your head to twist in your hair as he brought your face to his chest. He held you there for a minute as he took in deep breaths, feeling your sobs within his bones. And then he pulled you away. His right hand left your hair and went toward his lightsabre, fingers dancing along the power ignition. He stared you dead in the eyes with the saddest expression on his face that you had ever seen.

“You don't have to forgive me.”

And then he was walking at top speeds, passing by you with boots crunching over the metal that littered the floor. You spun around and started to move, but your body froze in place. He was holding you still with the Force as he left, and you tried to scream out, but your voice was stuck, vocal chords paralysed. You screeched over the Bond as loud as you possibly could, begging for him to come back, but he tried to ignore you. Your voice echoed back to you, but his attention was so limited that you could still feel the raw emotions that transferred through.

Kylo shoved his helmet over his head and started to walk faster, leaving your sight all together. Faster and faster. Long legs, shaking hands, heavy heart. Faster and faster toward his own destruction.

* * *

 **A/N:** We're nearing the end, kiddos. Three more chapters. Just three. My goodness, what a journey this has been.

So, a note about Amena, because I recently realised that this is a subject that hasn't been talked about. Some of you may have noticed that Amena is described as wearing a hooded scarf except when in private or around other ladies, and when any men walk into the room, she immediately pulls her scarf back into place. For those of you who do not know hijab etiquette, this is pretty normal. Amena is a hijabi, and most hijabis will only cover up when in the presence of men to whom they are not related. Around everyone else, they are free to show their hair. This is why Amena got nervous when the reader came into the room without knocking. For all Amena knew, it could have been Dr Hermeyer, and she would want to keep herself covered in his presence. Now, you may wonder, 'Huh, Aisling, why is Amena a hijabi? Is Space Islam a thing?' In which, I will start laughing for ten years, because the concept of Space Islam is literally hilarious to me, and slap-happy-me likes to talk about it a lot ( _when do you pray fajr if there is no sun? What if there are multiple suns? If there is no moon, do you celebrate Eid at Mecca time? HOW DOES SPACE ISLAM WORK???_ ). Also, fuck it. I just wanted hijabi representation, and it's my story, and I can do what I want.

Also, a reminder that Deirdre is not even from the Star Wars universe, and is literally just an Easter egg that I include in every single one of my stories because she is canonically a space and time traveller. So her trick up her sleeve is that she is literally just gonna peace out permanently from the Star Wars universe and go on with her shenanigans. I've had her as a character for over four years and have been slowly drafting her novel, but I have no idea when I'll get around to writing it. Maybe years from now. Maybe never. Maybe soon. Who knows? She's an interesting character, and I love her, but I've never felt all that rushed to make her story come to fruition.


	34. Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kylo Ren makes good on Snoke's final plan, you and Talia embark on a rescue mission as the Starkiller Base meets its end.

**Playlist:** [ Youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_HlPboLRL8&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZCiyAoa_0jJ_H3hEjHsa25)

* * *

 

Snow underfoot, Kylo Ren trudged through the broken chunks of ice that had shot through the air as the Millennium Falcon skid to a stop. The freighter hung precariously over a massive gorge, just barely balanced into the snow. Kylo's eyes scanned the Falcon as he felt through the Force for a sign of life. Thus far, nothing. It was always possible that those inside were dead, but he would have felt that. He would have felt Han's life extinguish like a flame—would have smelled the smoke in the air.

With a few Storm Troopers behind him, Kylo climbed through the ice to reach one of the Millennium Falcon's hatch doors. He held his breath as his fingers fluttered over the keypad. The code was still pressed into his muscle memory after all of these years, and he thought his heart had skipped a beat when a second passed between entering the code and when the door slid open.

He stepped inside, feeling the snow crunch into the treads of his boots as he crossed through the familiar threshold. The nostalgia washed over him. Nothing had changed. Nothing _ever_ changed. His gloved hand glided along the walls as he walked further inside, making his way to the cockpit. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at the two seats and controls. Stars, he had been terrible at driving this. There was a reason why Chewie had always been second in command instead of him. Kylo... _Ben_ had tried so damn hard, but he had been miserable as a pilot. His talents had always been better suited to sabres and the Force rather than flying.

Kylo Ren sat down in the co-pilot's seat, his hands reaching for a few controls, but he stopped himself. He shouldn't touch this. He shouldn't even be here. Even entering the Millennium Falcon had started to tug him toward the Light, which was the last thing that he needed at the moment.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. He could go back. Go back inside and seek you out. He could. It wasn't too late.

But Han was here. _Somewhere_.

Kylo Ren sat up and then immediately marched his way back outside into the freezing cold. The anxiety was bubbling through his stomach, and he could taste the bile under his tongue. Yes. Han was here. And now it was only a matter of finding him.

* * *

 

Captain Phasma hit against the bottom of a garbage chute like a sack full of rocks. There was nothing graceful about being forcefully thrown three storeys, only to land on a pile of broken metal, bags full of waste, and the discarded electrical wiring from a nearby hallway's yearly maintenance. If it hadn't been for her helmet being securely in place, she would have been a dead woman. Dizzy but still functioning, she ripped the dented chrome helmet from her head and pulled her hand through her blonde hair where the impact had left a bruise and deep slash. Her hand came away covered in hot, sticky blood. She couldn't actually _see_ the blood in the dim light of the trash compactor, but there was no mistaking the smell of iron or how it felt against her fingers.

“Damn it,” she muttered. Where was her beautiful doctor when she needed her?

Phasma reached for her comm attached to her belt and could feel that it had bent with the impact of her fall. Yet another thing that she didn't need at this moment. Still, it was her only hope of getting out of this situation.

“Amena,” Phasma called into the comm, hoping that she would hear. “Amena... I'm in a predicament.”

* * *

 

Kylo Ren's Force-induced paralysis had left your body the very moment that he had stepped out into the snow of the Starkiller Base. You lunged forward, falling to your hands and knees as you finally felt the nerves awaken in your limbs. If you ever received any proper training in the Force, the first thing you vowed to learn was to break free of his invisible restraints. No more being trapped and helpless at his whims; you were more powerful than this.

Pulling yourself to your feet, you started moving toward the exit where Kylo had left, determined to track him down. He didn't have to go alone—didn't have to go through with killing Han. And if there was anyone who would be able to stop him, it would be you.

You had managed to get down two hallways when Talia could be heard running behind you, calling your name as she panted. Skidding to a halt beside you, she collapsed against the wall and tried to catch her breath. It was probably the most physical exertion she had done in months, judging by the amount that she was gasping for air and how flushed she had become.

“Emergency...” she said between gasps. “Comm from Phasma... Can't find Hux... but it's... emergency.”

You bit at your lip, feeling concerned for Talia but still wanting to follow after Kylo Ren before he destroyed the last shreds of his humanity. It was just one thing after another...

“What is it?” you asked.

Talia started power walking as she panted, waving for you to follow her as she turned down another hallway. “Amena got a comm. From Phasma. It sounded like the transmitter was damaged or something... Lots of weird static. We couldn't make out much, but Phasma sounded like she was in trouble. So we put a trace on the comm, and it was coming from... it's so weird. It was coming from the inside of a _garbage_ chute. And I wanted to pass everything on to Hux before alerting the Storm Troopers, because who knows what in the hell is going on, but I can't get a hold of him at all! He just keeps ignoring me over and over and over again! He doesn't answer comms; he's not in his office; not in his quarters. And _damn it_ , I need him right now! _Something_ is happening--”

“Stop, Talia,” you whispered, holding up a hand. She pouted, but then her hazel eyes narrowed, and she followed your line of sight to the end of the hall, listening intently.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice like a breath.

An echo came from down the hall—footsteps, a yell, and then the sharp sound of a blaster firing against metal. The sounds drew nearer, and then all at once, three shots of bright blue plasma went through the air and crashed into an electrical panel in a shower of sparks! You and Talia both yelped, and she fell back into the wall. Grabbing Talia's hand, you pulled her up and nearly dragged her into an alcove just a few steps away.

“ _What the hell!_ ” she gasped as you shoved her head down so that neither of you would be seen. A gaggle of Storm Troopers ran past, not even noticing either of you crouched behind a metal partition.

“I don't know, but nothing good,” you replied.

Another Trooper ran past, blaster in hand and yelling something slightly inaudible about _attackers_. He kept running to catch up with the other Troopers, and a blaster went off yet again, just a little further down the hall. You cursed under your breath and peeked from behind the partition of the alcove to see more sparks flying onto the floor.

Talia glanced over at you, her eyes wide with fear and instant understanding.

“Phasma... she didn't just _end up_ in a garbage chute,” Talia whispered. “She was _put_ there, wasn't she?”

You nodded. “Most likely on purpose.”

“Do you think she's been attacked, then?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. There was no way that this _wasn't_ connected to Han Solo entering the base. No. Way. And whoever he was with, they most likely were helping launch some kind of attack.

Grabbing Talia's hand again, you shoved her out into the hallway and started to run away from the blaster fire with her following behind. “Take me to where Phasma's comm is located!” you demanded. Talia was in a nervous, flighty frenzy, but she shook her head in agreement and took off ahead of you to lead the way.

“Yeah,” she called over her shoulder. “It's not too far from here.”

Both of you made a turn down a narrow hallway, and the metal panelling on the wall began to look more worn, as though it had been salvage. It was darker, colder, and the hallway led to steep staircase made of thick, metal grate. You could see through each step to the floor below, several storeys down, and it only got colder as you travelled further behind Talia. It was increasingly obvious that this part of the Starkiller Base was not usually visited nor properly cared for, which only made the journey all that more nerve-wracking.

At the bottom of three storeys, Talia ran off the staircase and toward a door with a circular wheel to lock it closed. She pulled at the wheel with all her strength, grunting as it moved a mere inch and then stayed closed.

“Shit,” she spat, still trying to open the door. “It's just down here! Like, this hallway's supposed to lead to the garbage chute--”

“Talia, back up.” You pulled her out of the way and tried your hand, but the door still wouldn't budge. Cursing, your eyes darted around the stairwell and platform until you saw a glass emergency case just a flight above. “Hold on.”

Running back up a flight, you skidded to a stop before the case, which had two blasters locked behind the glass with EMERGENCY written in bold, red paint. You didn't have a key, didn't even know how to _use_ a blaster, but what you _did_ have was a foot—which you swiftly used to kick through the glass. A shower of glass shards fell through the metal steps to the floor below, and you reached in to pull out a blaster and run back down to Talia.

“Think this'll work?” you asked. Talia nodded nervously and watched as you flicked the blaster out of safety and aimed at the door's hinges. The blaster was heavy in your hands, and your index finger tapped against the trigger a few times. There was no way to know whether your aim would be any good, but you had to at least try. Maybe the Force would help you, or so you wished. Focusing on the hinges, you finally pressed the trigger and felt a jolt rock you back a step as the plasma flew forward and blasted through the hinge and part of the door.

Talia stepped back even further behind you as you aimed again at the second hinge and fired. The door rocked ever so slightly but stayed firmly in place. Then you shot one more time at the wheel, and all at once, the door fell forward into the hallway with a massive crash.

Talia stepped forward, hopping onto the thick, metal door and kicking where the wheel had once been. “Well, that's one way to do things.” She waved you on and started to power walk further down the hall. Her finger traced along the walls, pointing at each sign beside the doors until she found the one she was looking for. TRASH COMPACTOR. Biting her lower lip, Talia gave the door a few pounding knocks and pressed her ear against the metal.

“Do you hear anything?” you asked. Talia frowned and glanced down at the blaster that was still in your hands.

“Wanna use that again?”

You cracked a smile, feeling more powerful than you should have. “Sure.”

Talia scampered back behind you, and you aimed once again for the door hinges. It only took one blast this time, and the door instantly teetered on its single hinge and opened wide enough for you to stick your head inside.

At first, you couldn't see anything inside the trash compactor nor adjoining garbage chute, but the smell of rotting rubbish was overwhelming.

“Phasma?” you called, not quite sure if she was really inside. But you heard an immediate stirring from deep in the compactor and then a call.

“Well now, it's certainly about time!” Phasma called. Your eyes had barely adjusted to the darkness, but you could see Phasma's silhouette as she climbed over rubbish toward the door. Her hand shoved at the door as she clambered out of the compactor, looking far more beaten up than you had expected. Her helmet was gone, and blood covered half of her face and her blonde hair, but at least she was moving.

“Shit, Phasma, what happened to you?” Talia cried out at seeing the blood. She immediately started moving her finger back and forth before Phasma's vision, watching how the captain's pupils dialated. “Follow my finger, follow it. Lemme know if you're all right--”

“Enough, Talia,” Phasma snapped, pushing Talia's finger out of the way. “Of course I'm not all right! None of us are!” She was furious and wild eyed as she moved past you and started taking the metal stairs two at a time. “This entire bloody _B_ _ase_ isn't all right!”

You hooked the stolen blaster to your belt and ran after Phasma with Talia trailing behind, both of you trying to keep up with Phasma's impossibly long legs. “Who put you down there?” you asked as she led the way. “Was it Han?”

Phasma shook her head. “I don't know who that is, but FN-2187—the _traitor—_ was responsible with some other man whom I've never before seen in my life. And they forced me to disable the Base's shields! Do you realise what this means? The whole Base is at risk! An attack is imminent, and I've wasted time being stuck in a pile of garbage!”

“That explains the blaster fire up above,” Talia mentioned. “But if it's just a couple of people, they can't possibly do _that_ much damage.”

Phasma disagreed. “No, they're with the Resistance, and they're apt to destroy the Base at any moment!”

“ _Destroy?_ ” Talia slowed down for a moment, her hands balled up on her hips. “No way. You can't possibly think this is some kind of orchestrated attack?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Talia, feeling your heart beat into your throat. You wanted to tell her not to worry, but with all the pieces coming together—of Han being with FN-2187 and the Storm Troopers firing in the hall—it all made sense. This was something much larger than coincidence. This was some kind of battle being brought to your doorstep.

“Come on, Tal,” you called weakly as you kept climbing the steps after Phasma. She was already at the top and impatiently holding a door for both of you to go through.

Talia groaned and scurried behind you. “This is even further reason why I need to find Hux.”

“There isn't any time for that,” Phasma said as she shoved Talia through the door behind you. “At this point, we should leave.”

“Leave to _where_?” Talia asked.

Phasma didn't answer where but kept running. “My only goal is to grab Amena and get the hell off this Base. We can figure everything else out afterward.”

Talia was still arguing from behind. She thought that Phasma was being ridiculous and over-reaching in her assessment of the Resistance. Who in their right mind would try to attack the Starkiller Base, anyway? Certainly the Resistance was smarter than that! But Phasma wasn't going to be talked down—especially not by Talia, who had so little understanding of anything outside of her career field. She knew nothing of war, of battles, of plans for destruction. Things were going to go south. And they were going to do so _immediately_. So Phasma kept running down the halls of the Base, eyes set toward the medical wing where Amena would be waiting.

Blaster fire could be heard from down various hallways as the three of you ran, and if you hadn't been convinced before that something bigger than a small-scale attack was happening, this confirmed it. Then a blast rattled through the Base, first in noise, and then in a massive quake as the ground beneath your feet shook. The entire Base was rocking as another explosion occurred in the distance, and Talia screamed out whilst holding onto the wall.

The battle was here. Escape was necessary.

 _Kylo!_ You called through the Bond, hoping that he would hear you. _Kylo! Get to somewhere safe! There's an attack!_

You didn't know to what extent that he was blocking the Bond, but you could feel a flutter of anger drip like water into your body.

_I am aware._

Thank God! There was that low voice of his.

_Then get to safety rather than focusing on killing Han._

He didn't reply, but the anger sparked, followed by a moment of intense loathing as he tried to focus away from you.

_I know that you hear me. Run. Run away, Kylo._

_No._

You groaned in response, but it sounded more like a pant than anything else. Once again, you and Talia were miserably out of breath, and Talia had started to cry and whimper as you ran along. Her skinny fingers kept pressing down on her comm as she cried into it for Hux.

“Please, please, please answer me! Hux!” Her voice was rising higher and higher, getting increasingly more dramatic as no answer came through. Talia looked up at you and Phasma with tears dripping down her cheeks and off of her chin. “Guys, we have to go find him. We have to make sure he's safe--”

“No, Talia,” Phasma snapped. The captain had absolutely no patience for Talia's nonsense.

“But I _care_ about him! If we can go back for Amena, we can go back for Hux! I _love_ him--”

Phasma swivelled on her heels and turned around. Her blood covered face was right before Talia's as she yelled out. “HE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT _YOU_.” And then Phasma had turned back around with a huff and was running even faster down the hall, completely losing both of you behind her. Talia coughed out a sob and then silently wept behind you as she half-heartedly followed along, knowing full well that every word Phasma spoke was true. She still flicked her comm every few seconds, hoping vainly for a response that was never going to come.

You couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Talia. All three of you had someone you loved on the Base, and every shake and rattle from an explosion put them in further danger. Though Phasma seemed to have the right idea in going after Amena. Hux and Kylo were more than capable of taking care of themselves should the Base be any danger. They could escape. They had usable legs. But Amena was at the mercy of whoever could look out for her, and at that moment, she had the strongest woman in the galaxy on her way.

Your run had slowed to a quick walk with Talia toward the medical wing when a dark vision flashed into your mind. Your eye sight was doubled—both looking out upon the dull hallway and then onto the narrow walkway of a bridge that crossed from one side of a massive pit to the other. Red light filtered onto the bridge, and you saw Kylo's boots crossing. His anxiety was building, muscles tense and hands shaking. Your own fingers shook to the same rhythm. Your heartbeat quickened. Stumbling over your own feet, you crashed to the floor, pulling Talia down with you.

“BEN!”

A voice broke from behind you, but it was not you who turned. Kylo slowly turned around and narrowed his eyes as Han Solo stepped forward.

“No,” you whispered. “No, go back!”

Talia shook your shoulders, her face painted in confusion. “What are you...”

Her voice seemed to trail off as you dove into Kylo's body. Every one of his fears filled you, danced in your stomach and tightened in your chest. You only remotely felt Talia pull at your hand and bring you to your feet. Your eyes saw nothing of your own reality—felt nothing as you ran behind her, being pulled along. Every sense was purely Kylo Ren's as he walked toward his father on the narrow bridge.

You felt Kylo's words escape your own lips.

_“Your son is dead...He was foolish.”_

Han was stepping closer. So much closer toward his own death, and you couldn't help but think that he _knew._ Han was so incredibly aware of what danger lied ahead, and yet he kept moving forward, a hand reaching out for his son.

_Han, please turn around!_

You were begging through the Bond, but only Kylo spoke. A lump was growing in his throat as he trembled. “I'm being torn apart.” And you could feel it. You could feel every fibre of his being being shredded as he tried to maintain the smallest amount of composure. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, and he held out his lightsabre, letting it rest in both his and Han's hands.

You watched on, not daring to breathe. Was Kylo... was he relinquishing his control over the sabre? Was this truly happening? Had you been wrong about his intentions this entire time? White light was pouring in from outside, shining on the metal of the sabre, and you tried to reach forward. With all of your might, all of your strength, you tried to grab the sabre and throw it. Throw it over the precipice and into a void pit to never been seen again. The struggle was grander than you could have ever imagined. If only you were more powerful in the Force. If only you were truly there! If only!

You kept trying to stretch forward. Kept trying to grab the sabre and destroy it. But the white light suddenly left behind a rolling cloud, and the red was back. The darkness was pressing in.

Kylo glanced back from the sabre to Han—just a fluttering motion. Tiny. Insignificant.

Deadly.

All at once, Kylo's fingers—your fingers—ignited the sabre, and the brilliant red blade shot forward, not just into the air, but directly into Han Solo's chest and through his back. Han gasped as the sabre cut through flesh and muscle and organs, through ribs and all. He gave a tremble, but his hand leapt from the sabre to Kylo Ren's face, cupping his cheek in his hand.

Such a tender moment, he held onto his son for just a few seconds, but each second may as well have been an hour. You could feel his hand on your cheek, cold and clammy as it slipped down your neck and then back to Han's side. The sabre in your hand was pulled away, and Han Solo fell backwards—away from you, away from his son whom he had hoped so much to save from Snoke's despicable Darkness. His light eyes were still locked with yours, and you watched as he slipped off the walkway and into the dark below.

Lurching forward, you fell to the floor once more, but this time, Talia didn't try to move you. She didn't understand what was happening, but you wouldn't have been able to answer her questions anyway as you sobbed. God, you could still feel his hand against your cheek! And you could feel Kylo's shock, his anger, his denial and complete and utter despair at what he had just done. He thought that this moment would fulfill some greater task—that it would make him powerful and finally push him into the Darkness that Snoke wished for him, but instead, it made him weak. He felt as though he was crumbling in upon himself, as though he had truly broken in half from the pressure of it all.

_What have I done?_

The regret rolled through him as he stared at his father's body falling through the air until it was nothing but a speck burnt into his vision.

_WHAT HAVE I DONE?_

He was screaming through the Bond, searching for you. Searching for answers. Searching for any comfort that could quell the regret that punched through him and burned at his mind as Rey screamed out from above at his actions. Her cries—your cries—his own—they ate at his heart like acid pumped through pulsing veins.

Kylo fell to his knees, matching your body's posture exactly. He glanced at his hands. They had been the hands of a killer for so terribly long, but now they were much more than that. _What is worse than a murderer?_ He didn't have the ability to answer. Didn't have the words. Didn't have the strength.

And he didn't have the time as a plasma blast from Chewbacca's bowcaster struck him at the waist.

The air was punched from Kylo Ren's lungs as his hands clutched at the wound. The searing pain pulled a gasp from his lips before he screamed out—a scream that echoed down the hallway as you yelled out in pain. You felt punched so hard in the gut that you vomited onto the floor, hands scrambling toward the left side of your stomach to try and stop the pain. Your vision was ripped from Kylo's eyes and brought back to view the vomit on the floor and the florescent-lit metal flooring that was so bright in comparison to the dark bridge.

You became aware of Talia at your side, her hands scrambling toward your own.

“You're bleeding.”

She pushed your hands aside and tugged at your shirt, which was soaked in blood. The skin of your abdomen was already deeply bruised—the vessels bursting in bright red and purple splotches around a deep tear through the skin. Talia gasped at the sight with eyebrows pulling together as she glanced from the wound to your face and back. The gears of her mind were running at full speed to make sense of it all.

“You and Ren... You're connected,” she finally said.

You nodded your head as you sobbed, not able to make any words at all. Talia wrapped your shirt back into place and pressed on the wound with both hands to slow the bleeding. You pulled in a sputtering breath, trying to ignore the sharp pain or the cold blood that was soaking through your clothes and onto the floor beneath you. Even looking at the blood made you dizzy, and you shut your eyes and leaned the back of your head against the metal wall.

You felt cold, cut off from both your own body and the Base that shook with continued explosions. With your eyes closed, you could see back through the Bond, back through Kylo's eyes. He was moving now, his hand holding the lightsabre firmly as he crossed the bridge and headed toward Rey and FN-2187. He was screaming, and his left hand kept clutching the bowcaster wound at his side that was significantly worse than your own. The pain wasn't stopping him but only gave him the fuel to continue on after the tragedy of his own actions. The pain was fire, reigniting his body, and his feet moved faster. Faster and faster toward the traitor and girl who were running away from him.

Amidst the sounds of sobs and explosions came heavy footsteps as Phasma ran back down the hall with Amena in her arms. It only took a quick glance from Phasma for her to know what happened.

“If she's this injured, then Ren can only be worse off,” Phasma mentioned. “I'm sure that it hurts, but we have to run. Now.”

Talia interjected, still pressing her hands against the wound. “Phasma, she can't possibly--”

“If you were wise enough to leave your comm's transmission on rather than continuously trying to contact the general, then you would know that the Resistance squadrons have fired at the oscillator! The Base is ready to explode at any minute, and here you are wasting time! Get her up, and _run_!”

Talia's lips were trembling, but she listened. Removing one of her hands from the wound, she pulled you to your feet. A shocked gasp escaped your lips as you stood and leaned against her, letting your right arm rest over her shoulders so that she could help pull you along. Talia then wrapped her left arm behind your waist so that she could keep applying pressure to the wound. And struggling, sobbing, blinded by tears and dizziness that blackened the edges of your vision, you started to hobble along with Talia and Phasma leading.

“Amena,” Talia called ahead, “What should I do for this wound? Aside from just applying pressure...?”

Amena yelled from over Phasma's shoulder. “That's about the extent of what we can do for now, but I'll take a look as soon as we're on a ship.”

“A ship?”

“For a doctor, you are incredibly dull, Talia,” Amena sighed with a roll of her eyes. “We're leaving the Base.”

“Should we get separated, make your way to the hangar,” Phasma mentioned whilst quickening her pace. “Several ships are waiting for Troopers and personnel, but they're filling up quickly.”

Talia nodded and clenched her teeth shut, a sniff coming out of her runny nose. You knew that Hux was still on her mind, but she kept moving and dragging you along. And each time that you blinked, you could see through Kylo's eyes. You saw him run up a flight of stairs and use the Force to rip a sliding door from its tracks that was opening too slowly for him.

“TRAITOR!” he screamed as FN-2187 and Rey ran into the snow ahead of him. A bright explosion came from behind, and Kylo Ren could feel the heat at his back as he moved forward into the bitter cold. Back into the snow and the ice that whipped at his bare cheeks and messy hair. He stumbled into the forest, starting to run after them even though the pain screamed through his abs and blood dripped down his leg and into his boot.

He screamed again—a scream matching in your own throat as Talia shoved you through the hangar door with a ship just ahead.

“Kylo!” you cried out, both aloud and through the Bond. He had to hear you. He _had_ to! “DAMN IT! LEAVE THEM. TURN AROUND.”

But Kylo Ren stepped further into the snow, his face feral and shadowed menacingly by the tree limbs above him. Further and further, he trudged on, lightsabre casting a bright red light against the night that would threaten to swallow him whole. Soon, this would all be over. More blood would be spilled upon the snow—whether his or theirs, it didn't matter. And Kylo Ren would finally enter the full Darkness commanded by Snoke or fall into the depths of hell.

Or, quite possibly, both.


	35. But Please Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle between Kylo Ren and Rey commences as the Starkiller Base explodes.

**Playlist:** [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_sMuo8Lujg&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZer7d-BKJBqe82LIqtllF1)

* * *

 

A clashing of lightsabres flooded your vision as Talia dragged you up the ramp of a small cruiser in the Starkiller Base's hangar. Your feet stumbled, not on the metal incline but upon the ice and snow beneath Kylo Ren's feet. The red light of the sabre illuminated the falling snow that danced through the night air and cast an eerie glow against his bloodied, black tabard. A blue light faced against him from the opposing sabre held firmly in Rey's hands as she backed up on shaking legs. She was fighting as hard as she could against Kylo Ren yet still being backed against trees as she tried to escape from him and defend any further attacks that he would have against FN-2187.

“Leave her!” you cried out through the Bond, but Kylo Ren kept fighting. He was too full of rage, blinded by his grief, dying too thoroughly inside to stop now. He hated every fibre of his being, and death would have been a release from the person whom he had become. He loathed that the sabre in her hands would be Luke's—that he would even be _thinking_ about Luke at such a time and boiling over in anger at the mere thought of him. It should have been his. Rey shouldn't be here. _He_ shouldn't be here. Damn it all, he had never wanted it to come to this.

The sabres hit again, sliding off of one another and sending Kylo's sabre into a tree with a shower of sparks. Rey ducked under his arm, taking flight through the snow. Kylo chased after her, occasionally hitting upon the bowcaster wound at his side. Blood splattered onto the ground, contrasting so brilliantly against the white. Each hit rattled through you, sucked the air from your lungs, and Talia would hold on tighter to her grip around your waist and right arm so that you didn't collapse completely.

The Starkiller Base was on its last leg. Shaking constantly with the unending roll of explosions, it was meeting its end from the Resistance's battle. Fire had erupted through the Base, filling the hallways with thick, black smoke that threatened to suffocate anyone left behind. The electricity cut in and out, leaving only star light and cruiser headlights to illuminate the hangar as more and more ships left. Where they were headed, no one was quite sure. All that the Troopers and personnel of the Base knew was that to flee was to survive, and they would get away at any cost before the entire planet imploded.

Talia dropped you into a seat on a cruiser and sat to your left, both hands now back on the bleeding wound at your side. Phasma placed Amena across from you and then ran back down the ramp to direct more Troopers to the various ships. Amena slid from the seat and hobbled over, moving Talia's hands out of the way and lifting the blood soaked shirt from your side.

“This is deep,” she mumbled whilst pulling a set of plastic gloves from her pocket. A hiss escaped your lips as she prodded the wound further, inspecting the gash. “Talia, find a medkit.”

Talia nodded, scurrying about the interior of the cruiser as a few more Troopers ran inside and took seats directly behind the cockpit. She ran back with a mostly empty kit that Amena started rummaging through. The sharp sting of rubbing alcohol burned through the gash, cleaning away the blood, and then came the pull of a needle, weaving between flesh as Amena stitched as quickly as possible.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but the darkness behind closed lids only revealed the dark forest as Kylo ran forward. He turned the sabre in his hand, twirling it menacingly and burning circular images against the night. His motivation to fight, to survive—it was such a fleeting thing. He didn't want to kill Rey, even though she would have been content in seeing him dead and gone for what he had done. And in a way, he wanted the same thing.

 _She should kill me_.

“No!” you gasped. Amena paused for a moment and glanced up at you, but you paid her no attention. Your mind was far, far away. She continued stitching, but you didn't feel that pain. You only felt the blood that flowed from Kylo's side, down past his hips, all the way to his feet to pool in the bottom of his boot. For a moment, you thought that you were walking beside him as he fought against Rey, and you could smell the burnt flesh in the air, feel the snow on your skin.

“You aren't going to die here,” you demanded.

He clashed his sabre against Rey's once more, gritting his teeth.

_Then what do you expect me to do?_

“Survive!”

_I don't deserve it!_

“Then redeem yourself!”

The sabres hit again, this time Rey managing to slice at Kylo's right shoulder, leaving a wicked burn through his armour and deep into the muscle. Kylo gasped, too shocked to scream from the pain of the burn, but the scream left your lips instead. Your fingers struggled to hold onto your shoulder, ripping at your shirt to remove anything that would touch the burn.

“Damn it,” Amena hissed as she handed the needle to Talia and cut away the sleeve of your sweater. More bruises had appeared, bright red and quickly turning purple, but the burn wasn't present. It was only a perception in your mind with Kylo bearing the physical wound in your stead.

Rey struck again, her sabre meeting Kylo's as they faced off. It took all of his strength to hold steady with the injuries adding up and his will fading.

 _I don't know how..._ His voice struggled to meet you. _I don't know how to redeem myself. You've seen what I have done!_

“Anything!”

Kylo's voice broke through as the red and blue light of the sabres reflected from his sweat-drenched face. “I COULD TEACH YOU!”

“That isn't exactly what I meant, Kylo!” you hissed, but at least it was better than nothing.

Rey was confused, staring wide eyed at Kylo Ren who had just offered to teach her the ways of the Force in the middle of a fight to the death. He was insane. There was no other explanation. She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling so many of the events of the past few days that had led her to this exact moment. The injuries. The anxieties. The deaths. All of them rushed through her. And in a blast of the Force that you had never previously felt, she pushed back against Kylo Ren.

Her sabre sliced through the air, and this time, it was _she_ who backed Kylo Ren against the trees. Like a lioness, she circled him, hitting the sabre back against his burnt shoulder and then landing a kick against his stomach. Kylo bent over, gasping, and as he tried to stand back to his full height, she cut toward him again to send him fully to the snow-covered ground.

And one more fluid motion burned into his retinas as the blue sabre cut a slice into his face, from jaw, to cheek, across the bridge of his nose and over his eyebrow. All at once, the blood vessels of your face burst in a matching pattern, and both Amena and Talia shrieked in surprised fear at seeing the wounds come to life before their very eyes. Talia's bloody fingers touched upon the bruising, her lips trembling. How was this even possible? She couldn't understand how your perceptions could be so connected to the sensations of another human being, but she was fascinated. She was in sickened awe.

“Kylo...” your voice was weak as you looked through his eyes to see Rey circling and towering above him. Kylo attempted to sit up, only for his right arm to collapse beneath him. Stars! The pain was unbearable! He couldn't form any words as he stared up at her.

_I really am going to die here._

The Base was shaking more than ever beneath him, and Kylo watched as a chasm split through the earth between him and Rey, separating the snow and rock to reveal a massive pit. He tried to scoot back as it widened between them, but he collapsed again. His heart was in his throat, blood pouring from so many places that he couldn't even comprehend where all the pain was located. He just knew that it was there. He knew that the pain was everywhere and yet nowhere at all as the cold took over his extremities.

Rey backed up from the split in the earth and with one last look toward Kylo Ren, she turned around and ran into the snow—back to her precious traitor who was still unconscious just a little further away.

Great rushes of fire escaped from the chasm, igniting trees that fell like match sticks. The light reflected against Kylo Ren's face, glistened against sweat, against the shine of blood that was dripping into the ice. His breath caught in his chest as he watched the explosion of the Base directly before him.

“Kylo, run...” you whispered. You knew that he couldn't get up, couldn't run. But you demanded it of him anyway. “Run. Kylo, _run!_ ”

He fell back into the snow, feeling nauseous and weak.

“Is this where I leave you?” he asked aloud.

“No!” You lurched forward, escaping Talia's and Amena's hands that still tried to mend the wound at your side. You wobbled on your feet and pushed past Phasma who had just entered the ship. You were screaming now as you tried to exit the ramp. “No, I'm not leaving you!”

“TURN AROUND,” he roared, his voice echoing against the trees that still surrounded him.

You kept running to the ramp, stepping foot on the metal decline, but your feet tripped beneath you. You crashed to the metal, flat on your stomach, and the entire platform began to tremble and lift.

“Kylo... Kylo, no!”

The platform was lifting faster, knocking you back inside of the ship and to the floor.

“Why is the door sealing shut?” Phasma yelled from behind you, and several Troopers ran forward, trying to open the platform for another two personnel who were running toward the ship.

“Captain, it isn't budging!”

You were screaming from the floor, trying to feel the Force within you to fight back, to open the platform again. But it shut into the ship, sealing fully.

Kylo's voice was back in your head, and you saw him in the snow, staring up at the sky that was now glowing orange with fire and swirls of smoke. “You're going to leave this planet,” he said, matter of factly. “And you will survive.”

The Troopers were still trying to open the door, and Amena and Talia were dragging you across the metal floor to your seat, but all you could focus upon was Kylo. He was growing so cold. So weak. He lifted a gloved hand, and drops of blood fell to his face. He flicked his fingers, and the ship lurched beneath you, suddenly lifting into the air.

“Captain, the electrical isn't responding!” The Troopers were still trying with all their might to control the ship, but it was leaving the hangar and floating through the air as though being lifted by an invisible hand. It shot into the air at full speed, travelling through smoke and snow. Once high above the trees, the electrical of the cruiser came to life. The entire cruiser lurched again, and the Troopers immediately took back control of their ship and took off toward the edges of the atmosphere.

You were still screaming as you felt the ship rumble and break into the vacuum of space, taking you further and further from Kylo Ren with each passing second. He could hear your sobbing, hear your screams, but he made no solid reply. Leaning back further into the snow, Kylo closed his eyes. The smallest of smiles met his lips. You were safe. That was all that mattered by this point. You. Just you.

As he weakened, grew more tired, you fought less. You couldn't scream any longer. You couldn't make any noises at all as Talia held you down and Amena finished stitching your side. The tears flowed down your face—even with eyes closed. And you wept for Kylo. Wept for what he had done. Wept for his pain as he faced death all alone in the cold.

 _Why?_ Your voice echoed through your head and slowly made its way through the Bond. _Why did this have to happen?_

Kylo hummed for a moment, just tiny bits and pieces of a tune that entered your heart and shattered it.

_Kylo..._

You were further into space now, flying past the satellite that orbited the Starkiller Base and fleeing into the inky depths. And Kylo's voice finally broke through to you.

“I wasn't being honest...” His voice trailed in and out. He was so weak and had lost so much blood. The dizziness was pressing in upon his senses, but he tried to continue speaking to you. “...Not completely. You still... you don't have to forgive me. You _never_ do... But... please. Please do. I am... I am so sorry.”

And then, like a candle being extinguished in the wind, the Bond cut off.

It wasn't just the loss of his voice, the loss of his emotions and feelings that had been so much a part of you for these past few months, but it was like losing a part of your own soul. The pain was still within you but lessened as you no longer felt the burning of the sabres or same intensity. The connection felt as though it had been ripped away, leaving an empty road that no one could travel. It was nearly silent. Radio static. White noise.

No feelings. No emotions. No thoughts. No words. Nothing.

Your voice trembled, trying to release a scream that wasn't meeting your lips. It held in your throat, stuck and dying. Why did you hear nothing? How could this be? It wasn't the same as when he slept, when he was unconscious and sending fevered dreams. It was entirely gone.

He was gone.

 _You're not dead._ You argued into the Bond, but your words went no where. _You aren't!_ You refused to believe it. You refused to believe that Kylo Ren—your lover, your everything—would be lying dead in the snow as you managed to escape the Starkiller Base in one piece. You kept arguing with yourself, over and over and over again. This couldn't be true; you wouldn't allow it to be.

You looked out of a viewport across from you with blurry, tear-filled eyes and saw the _Finalizer_ making its leave from the Base. It launched forward just in time as the Base began to glow bright red and orange in cracks that split deep into the earth. Perhaps only ten minutes had passed since the cruiser had left the Base when it imploded fully and then exploded out in every direction. The cruiser rode on the wave of the explosion, sending half of the Troopers aboard onto the floor and you crashing into Talia beside you. The entire ship was rattling, and the electrical sparked in and out during the blast. Then all at once, the electricity on the ship cut out completely, and a dull red light flickered on to light the interior. The ship continued forward at its same speed without resistance, but all of the controls were shot.

Phasma picked herself up off the floor and glanced over to Amena, making sure that she was all right. “Is anyone injured?” she called out. A few of the Troopers groaned, but no one responded in affirmation. She sighed in relief and stumbled toward the cockpit to see what could be done about the electricity dying in the blast.

You glanced around the ship, seeing how everyone's features changed under the low, red lighting. They looked so foreign. So broken. You closed your eyes, the red light filtering through your eyelids as you saw stars invade your vision. You couldn't bring yourself to care about the electricity being out. The life controls and oxygen were still being pumped with reserve energy, and what did that even matter? All that mattered was that the Bond was silent, like a dark tunnel with no lights, no movement. It was a cave full of stale air and decay.

Voices were in your ear, but they weren't the voices you wanted. They weren't _his_ voice. They weren't _Kylo's_ words.

“She's lost too much damned blood.”

“What do you expect from a gash that size?”

“Does the medkit have regional anaesthesia?”

“Wouldn't a general anaesthetic be more effective?”

“Yes, but she would never wake up from it, and I'd prefer to not _kill_ her.”

“Here. Regional.”

“And a syringe? Alcohol wipes? Get with the programme, Talia.”

“I'm _trying_!”

The world was blackening. White to red to black. Their voices were still bickering but faded away. The only voice that remained was your own, repeating Kylo's name into a void Bond. 

* * *

 

“Someone saw the general with him, but there was no word on whether or not he was alive.”

“And they left the _Finalizer_ on Ren's private ship?”

“That's what I heard.”

“So Hux is at least alive. Thank the stars.”

“You don't care whether or not Ren is?”

“I... It's not that I _don't care_. But... he's not really my biggest concern.”

“...He'll be _hers_.”

“Of course he will be. I've never seen anything like it—that kind of connection. I've studied brains my whole damned life, and _never_ have I even _heard_ of such a thing. It completely breaks everything we know of how the brain should work. Of how sensation and perception should work.”

“Well, that's the Force for you.”

Amena's and Talia's voices seemed so far away, but you knew that they were right beside you. Your eyes remained shut, but you could tell that the lighting had changed. No longer were you on the ship in its red, emergency lighting, but now it was clear, bright. Florescent and white. Slowly, you became aware of your body. So much of it ached, and you were so groggy. Nothing quite made sense to you as you lied flat on your back. The smell of antiseptic was in the air, the noise of footsteps and medical monitors beeping. Were you in a med wing? Were you on a different ship? You couldn't tell.

“Oh look, she's waking up. Hey there...”

Your tongue was dry and stuck to the roof of your mouth, but you managed to croak out a sentence. “Where am I?”

Amena's voice answered. “A First Order satellite base. Somewhere in the outer rim territories, though we aren't receiving exact information. The entire Order is in chaos.”

“And Kylo?”

There was a slight pause, but she answered that as well. “Apparently with the general, though as I said, we aren't receiving exact information.”

Talia's voice broke through, interrupting you before you could speak. “Do you think he's alive? Do you feel him?”

You gently shook your head, still keeping your eyes shut against the bright light. “Nothing. I feel nothing.”

Talia whined and tried to press on, but Amena cut her off. “Let her sleep, for heaven's sakes, Tal.”

“I can't sleep,” you groaned, though that was a lie. You felt more exhausted than you ever had before in your life. “I have to leave. I have to... I have to find him.”

“And where is it that you plan to leave to? Do tell. Because not a single person in the First Order has any information on the whereabouts of General Hux nor Kylo Ren. You—like the rest of us—have been left with no clues. Not even Phasma has heard from them. And if that connection of yours is failing, then you are just as useless as the rest of us.”

Amena's words cut through you like knives. It wasn't something you had the strength for at the moment—not for this kind of solid truth. Your mind was so foggy, too; it was difficult to process much of anything. But an idea started floating around. At first, it was just the hint—the glimmer—of a thought. Like a gut instinct that became a feeling and then grew into something tangible, it burst like a ray of light and sat on your tongue.

“I know where I'll go,” you whispered. “I know.”

The image was so bright and brilliant—just like the lights that tried to break through your closed eyelids. And you whispered the name—the place—as a sigh whilst drifting back into a deep, anaesthesia-induced sleep.


	36. That's a Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journeys end as you figure out what to do with the broken pieces of your life now that the Starkiller Base has been destroyed and the First Order is in complete chaos. But just as journeys come to an end, so too do they begin.

**Playlist:[Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFxB-LYipjo&list=PL0PGmOE0GuhZ_l3rjwEHukBXvN8SO2LdF)**

* * *

 

Kylo Ren wasn't entirely sure what he felt upon first waking; all that he was certain of was the pain. A  _lot_ of pain. An excruciating pain reverberated through his abdomen from the bowcaster blast that made his left leg feel numb and tingly. Then it continued through his side so that even pulling the slightest breath would yank at the newly formed scabs in sharp stabs. Moving further up his body was the burn against his right shoulder that had sliced through tendons and torn at the rotator cuff. He tried to wiggle his fingers but felt nothing.

But all of this paled in comparison to the pain of the burn across his face. Whatever salve that had been used was only increasing the burning sensation as it attempted to seal the wound shut. He could smell it—burnt flesh, ammonia, sterile cotton, nauseatingly sweet healing salves, antiseptic ointments. It made his stomach do a flip as he lied on his back.

He tried to open his mouth, tried to open his eyes. All that he could see was the light of a medical lamp poking through a mesh of gauze, hindering his vision. But he could see through other means. There was always the Force.

General Hux was directly to his right, foot tapping annoyingly against the floor and fingers moving on his datapad. Kylo could hear each tap—could make out which letters that Hux was hitting in his current transmission. Even from a few feet away, Kylo could hear Hux's heart beat faster and faster. He was nervous. Angry. Which made sense, considering what all had happened aboard the Starkiller Base.

Granted, Kylo remembered little. After he had fallen into the snow, mind slipping in and out of consciousness, the memories mostly ended. He had remembered very briefly speaking with you. Had remembered wanting to give up, wanting to fall completely cold in the snow and never think nor speak nor move again. He had remembered shoving a metaphorical knife through the Bond, which even at this moment and in all of his pain, he still kept shut. And somewhere in the mess of emotionally destroying the only person he truly loved and the entire relationship that had been keeping him afloat, there came Hux—with a  _fucking jet pack._ Hux kept snapping toward Kylo as he dragged his sorry arse out of the snow and onto the Finalizer. From there, it had all been darkness.

Kylo tried to move his fingers again, wincing at how the muscles would spasm with each attempt. His entire right arm felt destroyed, but surely it wasn't. Surely it would work again. It  _had_ to. He wouldn't become helpless from a single burn through his shoulder, would he?

He moved again, this time allowing his fingers to wiggle into the blanket that covered him. Each finger pulled at the soft knit stitches, and he traced along the pattern, remembering the familiar feel of the wool. Of all the things to follow him to this miserable place, how had  _your_ blanket made it? It was both a blessing and a knife to the heart all at once.

In the midst of Kylo's wincing, Hux looked over and set his datapad aside.

“ _Finally_ , you rejoin the world of the living. Though whether or not that will be of any benefit to you remains to be decided. You are  _without a doubt_ the most idiotic person that I have ever met. Quite frankly, if it had not been for Snoke's orders, I would have let you freeze to death, but here we are.”

Kylo groaned through Hux's continuing scolding, barely listening. He thought about the Bond, thought about how he had cut it so severely that he wasn't even sure if either of you could survive it, and he pulled in a strangled breath. Tears leaked from his closed eyes, pressing against the gauze in dark patches, and Hux only scolded him further. Scolded him for his feelings, for choosing personal vendettas over Snoke's orders, for basically being responsible for this entire catastrophe.

“I should be dead,” Kylo finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse.

“That isn't for you to decide,” Hux responded.

Kylo tried to shake his head in disagreement but only gasped as the ligaments further tore in his right shoulder. “I've severed everything...  _everyone_ from me. Just let me die.”

Hux stood up from his seat and started to walk out of the room, fingers balling into fists as he moved. “What a pathetic excuse for a knight,” Hux spat. And then the lights of the room fell dark, and Kylo Ren was left completely and devastatingly alone.

* * *

 

Staring out of a triangular viewport from within a darkened hallway, you watched as bits of space debris flew on by. Distant stars and nebulae formed twisting, colourful shapes, like smoke from a fire. All of those stars and planets were before you, all so far away, so meaningless in this moment. How long now had you been staring at them? An hour? It was difficult to tell as you sipped on some water with Talia sitting to your left, slowly picking at her dinner.

Neither of you were all that hungry. Talia had spent most of the past couple days crying and shoving food around a plate with her fork, never actually taking a bite. Every now and then, her fingers leapt to her comm connected to her belt, thinking that she had heard something. But she never did. Not really. It was still as silent as it had been on the Starkiller Base. At some point, Talia  _had_ to accept that she wasn't going to be able to contact Hux, but she was a stubborn thing. She wouldn't give up easily nor soon.

There had been no word from either Hux nor Kylo since the Base had exploded. They were just... gone. No comms, no transmissions to the temporary headquarters at Crescent Base, no word sent to Phasma to tell her what to do as they disappeared. They had simply left with no information about their whereabouts nor health. For all you knew, Kylo really  _could_ be dead, though you still refused to believe that. There were always other explanations for what happened to the Bond. Granted, you weren't quite sure what those explanations were, but they had to exist.

You hadn't spent as much time crying as you thought you would. Talia had cried all of the tears in your stead. For the most part, you were just angry. A little numb. A little too shocked at the series of events that had unfolded in such a short time to be able to fully process much of anything else. Your mind kept going back to the Bond, which stood completely blank at the back of your mind. It was like a tunnel that should have been full of moving cruisers, and instead it was empty, dark, lifeless. No matter how many times you spoke into it, your words seemed to go nowhere. Water through a sieve, dripping into the ground rather than ever meeting with a river. It was so useless.

You felt alone. Very, very alone, even when surrounded by people. Talia must have felt something similar, because she stuck to you like glue over the past few days, constantly lamenting as you listened silently beside her. You listened to all of her problems that sprung in a never-ending flow from her lips—problems that were honestly so similar to yours and yet far, far away. Something about sitting beside her and listening was helpful. It allowed you to ignore your own miseries as her voice become white noise.

In Talia's defence, she had just as much as you to figure out at the moment. Honestly, she had no idea where to go or what steps to take; she had, in the span of a single day, lost everything. Hux was gone. Her research and years upon years of data were blown up along with the Starkiller Base. The dementia patients that she had started to study were mostly dead from smoke inhalation. The specimens in her office—all those floating brains and frozen microscopy slices—were destroyed and completely irreplaceable. All of it. Gone. And with the First Order now at full scale war, there was no need for her. No need for  _either_ of you, really. All funds were immediately being put toward the war expense, and everyone else was being placed in whatever other job they could do. For the researchers with absolutely no military training, this meant that you were useless.

“I'm out of the job... Nothing left,” Talia sighed as she swished around a drink and took a sip. “No meaning. Shit, I don't know what in the world I'm gonna do.”

You shrugged, your eyes still watching dust of space pass by and a comet flash in the distance. “Survive, I suppose. Just try and keep living until we can figure everything out.”

Talia leaned back so that her feet were propped on the sill of the viewport and back flat on the floor. Her mahogany hair was messy and fell around her head and shoulders like a massive halo. “All those brains...  _Poof!_ ” She lifted her hand into the air, making a little explosion sound as her hand mimicked a bomb going off. “All our files and analyses and reports.  _Poof! Poof!_ ”

“We'll rebuild.” You weren't entirely sure  _how_ , but things could really only improve from here.

Talia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Really?  _Really?_ I can't see that. Maybe  _you_ have some kind of plan for what you'll do next, but me? No. I don't know. I just don't know.”

You nodded, not wanting to respond. She was right; you  _had_ started to build a plan for what to do next. From the first moment that you had awoken on board, you had been devising it, but it wasn't ready to leave your head and go into fruition. Nothing was firm yet, and you didn't want to give away most of the plan to just anybody. Not when everything in the First Order balanced on the tip of a knife.

And holding that whole damned knife was Captain Phasma, who had been up to her neck in First Order bullshit since the moment the Base had exploded. With no contact at all from the general, she had to take matters into her own hands. Suddenly, she was the highest ranked officer in the entire First Order and was trying to maintain some resemblance of calm as problem after problem arose on the Outer Territory's decrepit Crescent Base. The financial losses had been devastating, loss of personnel and equipment uncountable, and general order and command completely lost as power vacuums left captains fighting one another for better positions. If it hadn't been for the support of Amena, who quickly picked up some of the necessary duties on board, Phasma would have never made it.

Even after a few days on Crescent Base, you were shocked by just how many people were no longer alive. Thousands of personnel and Storm Troopers were estimated to have perished upon the Starkiller Base, and it struck you now just how many familiar faces had disappeared. People you had seen every day for nearly a year had vanished like a puff of smoke. Their lives were so fragile, yet so many of them were gone that it was difficult to properly mourn. One loss was difficult enough to carry as you thought about Kylo—wherever it was that he happened to be. But  _thousands_ of deaths all at once? It was impossible to even process.

One other familiar person had made it on board with you. Mickella, the nervous, blonde researcher, could be seen occasionally lurking around the halls. Like Talia and yourself, she didn't have much of a purpose here. You would see her pass by, head down and hidden behind her glasses and long hair. She stared at her feet as she walked, never saying a word, never moving out of the way when Troopers ran past. They would bump into her and knock her against the wall, but she didn't seem to care all that much. Talia had said that Mickella was missing the other researcher, Byrt, who had not been as lucky. Apparently he had gone back for a family member on the Base and hadn't made it to a ship, and while neither Talia nor you really cared that much for him, Mickella did, and she carried the burden of mourning for all of you.

Plenty of others hadn't made it to the new base—the Hermeyers who had worked in the Starkiller Base's medical wing and memory care unit. Deirdre O'Donovan. Captain Harpin Maltolpol. Plenty of Troopers.  _Perhaps_ they were still alive and simply unaccounted for, but you rather doubted it.

Talia was still babbling as you thought through the week's events and Kylo's actions. It still tore you up to think about what he had done. Stars, you loved him, but you hated that sabre and all the Darkness within him. Hated how he had listened to Snoke and killed his own father rather than running away when he had had the chance. Hated that he could be so morally conflicted when an obvious answer waited for him. Hated that his voice could be screaming one moment and then whispering into your ear the next as he told you with all honesty just how much that he adored you. You hated the ghostly memory of his fingers on your skin. How tender they could be. How loving, gentle. How were they the same fingers that had held onto a lightsabre which killed so many?

And  _why_ ?  _Why_ did your heart hurt so much every time that you thought of him? Why did you love him so damn much? Why did your mind dance around with thoughts of rescuing him, of holding him once more in a place where no one could see you—where no one could ever try to take him away or tempt him again?

“Sorry if I appear unresponsive,” you mentioned after neither you nor Talia had spoken in a while. “I'm still processing the fact that my heart loves someone who would murder his own father just to gain power and would also allow someone else to commit horrendous war crimes right in front of him. Honestly, I don't know how you can do it. How you can pine over Hux after what he's done. You  _know_ how many people he killed, so how can you forgive him?”

“The same way you probably did.”

“I never said that I'd forgiven Kylo.”

“Yeah, but you still love him even though he did terrible shit, right? We're not so different.”

You sighed, leaning back as well so that both you and Talia were on the floor with feet propped on the viewport's sill. “I guess. I think I'm just infuriated that I'm in this situation in the first place. I feel so responsible for so much death and destruction.”

“Why?” Talia asked, though she continued before you could make an answer. “It's not your fault. Hux and Ren would have done the same shit regardless of whether we were there.”

“It doesn't remove the guilt.”

“Nothing will, probably.”

“You're not very hopeful, Talia.”

“No reason to be.”

And yet... Some tiny, microscopic bit of hope still fluttered through your brain, rested in your chest and collected life with each breath. At first, the hope had been fuelled by your anger. You had thought of Snoke and wanted to strangle him with your bare hands—wanted to kill him the same as you had with Captain Stratoveer. Destroy every hold that he had upon Kylo Ren. And then the anger had cooled into something that gave you strength. It was as though you had taken all of that pain and hurt and fury and learnt to control it, and now it was hardly different from the Force in the way that it wanted to move you forward.

“I've been thinking of something over the past few days...” you began, judging how Talia would react. She didn't say anything for once and let you continue. “Do you remember my cat? Pickles?”

Talia nodded but still kept her eyes on a particularly beautiful nebula, it's green light reflecting against her face in strange shadows.

“Well, I sent him to a friend, and I've thought of going there. Going back to my cat.”

“May as well,” Talia sighed. “Go back to  _something_ familiar.”

“Mhmm.”

Talia didn't need to know about Jessika. About Poe. About Pickles being in the stronghold of the Resistance. It wasn't that you didn't think that Talia deserved the information, but she couldn't be trusted. She was simply too liable to reveal secrets to people who would use the information to attack the Resistance.

“I don't really want you to leave, to be honest, but I get it. I really do. Your cat probably misses you. When do you think you'd go?”

You shrugged and pulled in a hiss. Your right shoulder was still so sore, and the bruising went all the way up your neck and across your face in patches of purple and brown. “Soon, probably. As soon as I can figure out how to leave.”

Talia reached over and gave your hand a squeeze, her fingers like ice against your own. “Good luck. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Tal.”

“I'll give you my comm number—in case you need me. And it's not like either of us have much, but I'll scrounge around for some supplies.”

As much as you had been trying not to cry through all of the conversation, it was  _this_ that made the tears start to pour. Your throat closed off completely, but you squeezed Talia's hand in return. She was well aware of the 'thank you' that was being sent her way.

* * *

 

Talia had tried to help gather some supplies for you, but there were slim pickings. All that either of you could scrounge together was a leather purse to hold your stolen blaster, a new comm, random packets of dehydrated food, a metal card for your credits that had been in your pocket when you had escaped the Starkiller Base, and an extra set of clothes that had most likely been the black under uniform of a Storm Trooper. It wasn't much—not by a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

“So, where are you even going?” Talia asked as she walked alongside you to the hangar.

“I can't really tell you the specifics, but I need to make a stop on Eriadu first.”

“Never heard of it.”

Admittedly, you had only ever heard of the planet once, and that's because you had sent Pickles there with some Storm Troopers to be picked up by Jessika's friend. Even now, you could only remember bits and pieces of the plan. You remembered the market number on the planet and the name of her contact—Samson. And you knew that there was some kind of fountain to meet at, but aside from that, you were basically on your own. Really, it should have been frightening to go to another planet with so little figured out, but your future looked just as blurred if you stayed on board—just as unpredictable and terrifying.

As you stood before a boarding ship of Storm Troopers, leather purse slung over your left shoulder, you breathed a deep sigh. Now or never, it was time to take a leap. Talia sniffled as she gave you a massive hug. “Promise you'll bring me back some specimens, okay? Come back with a cooler full of brains; I have to restart my collection.”

You laughed, but it was rather humourless. “I don't make promises, Tal. Promises are for harlequin romance novels and Valentine's Day cards...” You paused in the middle of saying that old line that you had quoted once before so many months ago, but you realised that there actually  _was_ a promise within you. It sat on your tongue. The promise was  _exact_ . It was meant for only you and one other person.

You swallowed the rest of your words and waved good bye whilst running aboard the ramp of the ship.

“Be careful,” Talia warned with a half-hearted smile. A memory popped into your head of her tiny cursive scrawled on a scrap piece of paper that had said the same thing when you had first been flirting with the danger that was Kylo Ren.

You nodded but found yourself smiling back. “No promises.”

* * *

 

Six long days. Four different ships. Two planetary systems. One hideous planet that was now beneath your feet.

You were absolutely exhausted by the time that you landed on Eriadu aboard a merchant carrier that you may or may not have bribed passage upon. From there, you had hitched an illegal ride on a cruiser for hire to get to the market in Eriadu City that Jessika had mentioned.  _Market #67._ You had remembered writing down the instructions.  _Fountain in the courtyard._ Hopefully it wouldn't be too difficult to find.

Eriadu was most likely the dirtiest place that you had ever visited in your life. Covered in sand and dust, the entire planet was full of smog from industry that polluted the atmosphere. You kept a scarf over your face, trying to block out the hideous smell, but it did practically nothing to help. The streets of the market were equally as polluted as the air. People walked past piles of rubbish on their way to the market, and there was no reprieve in finding the fountain by the market's courtyard, because it's water ran yellow and brown, its surface slightly foaming with who knew what type of chemicals.

You sat down on a rocky bench beside the fountain, trying to figure out what to do next. You didn't even know what Samson looked like. Didn't know if he would even show up or if Jessika had just managed to get him to show up that once to grab Pickles. Hours passed as you watched the merchants and shoppers—most of whom were veiled against the smog and sun or in Trooper uniform. No one was familiar. No one paid you any attention, though that was a blessing. You didn't  _want_ to be noticed. Not now or ever, really.

One day turned to two as you waited, just holding out hope that Samson would show up. You had plenty of credits to stay the night in an inn off the market's courtyard—a perk of having been paid by the First Order for a year's worth of work but never needing to spend any of it on Base. But as the third day crept along, you started to grow more afraid that this wasn't going to work. Had you showed up on a foreign planet with no information only to need to go back to Crescent Base? Had this been a stupid, fever dream that you should have never followed through? Probably. But on the fourth day, you sat by the fountain again, waiting. Just waiting.

Some of the faces had grown familiar by this point. You recognised the same fruit sellers with their beards and turbans—the children on their way to jobs in the market—the women pulling long scarves over their noses as they inspected goods. They gave you the saddest expression as they passed. It was as though they  _knew_ you were waiting, but they finally figured that whoever it was you were waiting for was long since gone. You were like a beggar girl, a nuisance, a lost pet. If they could have spoken your language, they would have pitied you.

By this point, you had started to ask people passing by if they were Samson, which most of them either didn't understand or would shake their head as they scurried away from the crazy woman by the fountain. Once again, today had brought no such success.

You groaned and fanned yourself with a thin metal scrap that you had found on the ground the day before. It was so damned hot, and you were getting progressively more disappointed. You envied the people who seemed to know just where they were going in the market.

You watched from behind your make-shift fan as more merchants passed, eyes straight forward on their destination. But one man was walking slower. His dark eyes glanced back and forth as he wandered off the path and ran his fingers through his dark brown, curly hair that was collected in a low ponytail. He wasn't dressed like all of the merchants in their traditional robes, but instead was in a pair of dark trousers and a beat up tank top that showed off his muscular arms. Instead of a long beard, his face was covered in dark stubble. A blaster was securely attached to his belt, and he pulled a comm from a bag, speaking inaudibly as he glanced around.

It wasn't just that he looked different than the rest of the crowd—dressed differently, browner skinned, taller and bulkier. But the way he carried himself set something off within you. Maybe it was gut instinct. Maybe it was the Force that was springing to life within your limbs, but you knew that he was the right person. That man.  _He_ was Samson. He  _had_ to be.

You leapt from the stone bench, muscles aching and the stitches pulling on your side. Standing may not have been the best idea. You sat back down, but your posture was tall, alert as you waved him down. “Excuse me! But... are you Samson?”

The man stopped in his tracks, eyes getting wide as his head whipped in your direction. He studied you for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not you were a threat. “It depends on who's asking.”

“Me. Just me;  _I'm_ asking. No one else.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to appear menacing, but something told you that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be rather puppy-like. Big and bulky but handsome and full-hearted—like a toddler trying to be mean but only making everyone around him laugh.

You continued, “I believe you were the one to take a cat to Jessika Pava almost three weeks ago?”

His thick eyebrows were now drawn together in suspicion. “Yeah...?”

“Well, that was Pickles. He's mine.”

“Really... And what did he look like?”

You rolled your eyes. “White with grey spots. Bright yellow-green eyes. Probably shit himself on the ride because he's an arse.”

Suddenly, the man perked up, mouth turning to an 'o' and eyes getting wide as he realised just who exactly you were. “Wait, you're Jess's roommate! The one that's the doctor, right?”

You nodded. “Think I could convince you to take me to her?”

He cringed, scratching at the back of his head and twisting his fingers into his curly ponytail. “Eh... I don't know if--”

“ _Please!_ ” you shouted, ignoring the pain to stand up from the fountain and cross over to him.

Samson backed up a few steps, slightly startled by you. His hands were held out before him, not wanting any trouble nor anyone in the market to start paying attention to either of you.

“You don't know what I've gone through! I have no home. No belongings. Nothing. I just want to get back to someone I know and my cat before I go completely insane!”

“Well now, Jess wasn't lying about you having landed yourself in trouble, huh?”

“You have  _no_ idea.”

He sighed deeply, scuffing the toe of his boot into the dusty ground. “If the general finds out, you never mention my name. I was never here. I never took you to Jess.”

“I won't rat you out—especially after having saved Pickles for me. Thank you for that.” You crossed your arms, frowning a bit as you thought about your cat. “Speaking of which... do you know how he's doing?”

“Catching mice the size of opossums, last I heard—maybe three, four days ago from Jess? She's been busy with all of the battles against the First Order, so I haven't commed her as often as I should. You know, she was there when the Resistance destroyed the Starkiller Base; she's turned into something of a hero under Commander Dameron's guidance. We're all pretty proud of her. She's a good kid.”

“You know Poe?” you asked.

Samson nodded. “Who  _doesn't_ know him?” He gave a hearty smile and a shrug but then clasped you on the shoulder, making you gasp as his hand hit upon the deep tissue bruise that matched Kylo Ren's burns. His hand leapt back to his side with a grimace. “Eh, sorry there.”

“It's fine,” you lied. “I'm just a little worse for wear.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” Samson motioned toward your bruised face and then to your left arm where a bright pink scar had formed from the recently removed stitches. It would seem that you were going to have a permanent reminder of Stratoveer's attack from that full month before. “Anyway... come on. I've got my cruiser parked in a lot about ten minutes' walk from here.”

“You'll really take me?!”

Samson laughed, this time giving you a pat on the centre of your back as you both started to walk away from the dirty fountain. “Well, I  _was_ waiting around for a shipment of, uh, questionable materials, but my guy didn't show up on time. And besides, a friend of Jess's is a friend of mine. So, uh, you got any stuff to take to the cruiser?” He looked around, noting that all you had was a simple purse over your shoulder.

You shook your head. “No. I meant it; I have nothing.”

“Oh, well, uh, so you do.” Samson didn't press the issue and kept walking, keeping his hand at your back the entire way as though he was now your personal body guard.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a little bit, feeling your throat start to close up like it had with Talia.  _No crying_ , you told yourself. You had done enough of that lately. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

The lush, green planet of D'Qar came into sight through the cruiser's wind shield, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Pangs of nostalgia rolled through you at seeing so much  _life_ . How long now had it been since you had last seen trees?  _Green_ trees? Grass and plants and birds and no sight of snow or sand or outer space? It had nearly been a year, and my God, you couldn't wait to just  _breathe_ and feel the sunlight on your skin.

Samson landed on a clearing of grass and gravel alongside a few other old ships and beat up cruisers, and then the hatch lifted to bring in fresh, cool air. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath. The air was sweet, full of the smell of wet grass. You felt the breeze, gently pushing your hair behind you. Lifting your face to the sky, you finally felt the warmth of the sun prickling against your skin like the touch of a lover. Like  _his_ touch. Kylo's...

You opened your eyes, the blue sky slightly too bright. What was  _he_ seeing at this moment? A similar sky? The darkness of space? Nothing at all?

Samson jumped from the cockpit and helped you down to the gravel below.

“It's a bit of a walk to the base. The general doesn't like civilians parking close. Safety, you know?”

You nodded. General Organa left no stone unturned in safety.  _Smart of her._ But that wasn't surprising. She had a smart son as well. Or, well,  _sometimes_ he was smart. Lately, he hadn't been proving himself so well.

Samson guided you along, chatting about the base and D'Qar's climate in this region and the general's rules and all of the various people he knew—which were a  _lot_ of people. He seemed to know  _everyone_ . You weren't listening that closely, instead taking time out to look around, gather your bearings. Butterflies were crashing around in your stomach as you contemplated what you were about to do—about to show up uninvited, unannounced to the Resistance's base after having spent nearly a year with the enemy. The fear was reasonable, or so you kept reminding yourself. There was no way to know how you would be treated if anyone found out your exact circumstances. Hell, they could have you arrested, and you wouldn't have blamed them. But still, you held out the smallest bit of hope that this plan of yours wouldn't turn out to be a complete loss. Maybe, just  _maybe_ , it would bring about the help you needed. Help to set things right. Help to pull Kylo away from Snoke and back into your arms where he belonged.

Because you  _believed_ he was alive. He had to be. You refused to accept anything else. Kylo was  _alive_ and most likely still under Snoke's control, and by damn, you weren't going to settle for that any more. No more acquiescing to fear and manipulation. No more accepting that Kylo will make his own decisions into Darkness. You were mad. You were in love. You were determined.

You were  _powerful_ .

The two of you had been walking along a dirt path for upwards of twenty minutes when the scenery changed. For starters, the path became easier to travel as it switched from packed dirt to gravel, and the trees had now been cleared away in some areas to make way for duracrete runways. Buildings were popping up along the widening path—temporary canvas huts, bunkers, old freight boxes transformed into military space. It was a hodge-podge base, using anything the Resistance could salvage or get their hands on in order to make it work. People in military uniform or orange and white jumpsuits were moving about, busy with the day's tasks.

Several of their X-wings were parked out in the sun and receiving maintenance after the recent battles, and the butterflies in your stomach turned to sickness. Those X-wings should have been a sign of good things—of good people fighting against the evils of the First Order—but you could only think of how many people had been killed on the Starkiller Base. So many. Thousands upon thousands.

You slowed down, feeling nauseous and panicked. Samson stopped walking and pulled you to the side of the path, patting you on the back. “You okay, kid?”

_Kid_ ... He couldn't have been more than five years older than you, but you brushed off the patronisation; he hadn't meant it menacingly. You pulled in deep breaths to quell the panic and rested your palms on your knees as you stared down at the gravel.

“I don't know,” you answered after sucking in more breaths. “I feel like I fucked up.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you did, but it's too late now. You're here.” Samson fumbled through a leather bag attached to his belt and pulled out his comm.

“What are you doing?” you hissed.

“Calm down, there. I'm just gonna talk to Jess. Tell her she has a guest.” He kept patting at your back the entire time that he spoke over the comm. “Yeah, Jess, it's Samson... You got a minute? Nah... Nah, nothing like that. Hey, I've got someone who wants to meet with you... NO, IT IS NOT A SET UP... Oh, come on. That was  _one_ time... Mhmm?... Okay, sounds good. We'll meet you there.” He stuffed the comm back into his bag and helped lift you back to a full stand. “You ready?”

“Sure,” you lied, still breathing a little too quickly and feeling as though your heart was about to beat out of your ribcage. God, you were nervous to be there. Even with the stolen blaster in your purse, you still felt entirely too vulnerable.

Samson led the way past several busy tarmacs before stopping at a long, sheet-metal building labelled in black paint with 'BARRACKS'. You could already hear Jessika's voice from inside, joking with someone as she walked closer to the door. Samson knocked on the sheet-metal, causing it to warble.

“Hey, Jess! We're here.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I'm coming.” Jessika Pava yanked at the oiled canvas that covered the entry to the barrack, already with a spit fire comment on her tongue toward Samson. “You know, I still don't trust that this isn't another date--”

Her face dropped when she saw you, jaw going slack and slanted eyes getting as wide as possible. “Holy...”

All at once, her arms were wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug against her. “STARS, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” She was nearly in tears against you as she squeezed harder and harder, irritating the bruise on your shoulder and neck. “I told Pickles he was an orphan! How in all the galaxies did you get out alive?!”

“A lot of luck,” you squeaked out as she rocked you back and forth and even momentarily picked you up off your feet. She had gotten so much stronger since the last time you had seen her in person, but otherwise, she was exactly the same. “And a lot of help from good people.”

“ _Good_ people?” Jessika leaned back but still kept her hands on your shoulders as she raised an eyebrow. “I'm guessing you don't mean anyone from the Fir--”

You hushed her, putting your hand over her mouth as she frowned. “We'll discuss it in private, but yes. I  _do_ mean them.”

Jessika gave a slow nod, not completely convinced that  _anyone_ from the First Order would be capable of kindness or moral integrity. But she led you inside of the bunker with Samson following behind. You walked past a few rooms, each with a bunk bed, desk, and dresser for two people. Jessika led you into her own bunker, which you had seen in the background when you had spoken with her over the vidscreen. She plopped into the seat of the desk chair, swivelling back and forth as you took a seat on the edge of the lower bunk and Samson sat himself right on the concrete floor beside the desk.

Jessika's eyes flickered over to Samson with a little frown, but then she directed back to you. “Just how private are you wanting this to be?” She glanced at Samson once again.

“He can stay if he promises not to judge me.”

Samson held up his hands and grinned. “No judgement. But I  _am_ curious what kind of adventures a doctor could get into that would leave her in this kind of situation.”

“So...” Jess began, leaning back into her chair and staring up at the low ceiling. “You signed a contract with the First Order...”

Samson's eyes got wide, but he forced his mouth shut.

“Yes. It was supposed to be for a year as a research scientist. They needed an epidemiologist, and I accepted the position--” Suddenly, your voice fell into a gasp as a fat, white and grey cat meandered into the room. “PICKLES!”

Alert and slightly surprised by your presence, Pickles let out a chirp of a meow and leapt into your lap, purring at full volume as he shoved his little head into your hand. You wrapped him in your arms, falling back on the bunk bed as you squeezed him. “Pic, I've missed you so much!”

He purred and chirped and purred some more as you cuddled him, crying into his fluffy fur that smelled of grass and wet earth.

“He's missed you,” Jessika commented from her seat. “Cuddling with me at night must not be doing the trick.”

You nodded your head, sniffling as you smiled. “Well, I'm his mum.” Something fluttered within you as you said that word.  _Mum_ . It reminded you that, somewhere nearby, was Kylo Ren's own mother—General Leia Organa. You stiffened, slowly sitting up as your face got serious.

Jessika's foot was tapping against the concrete floor. “So... I'm guessing that things went downhill with the First Order. You know, considering that they don't have a base any more?”

“Well, they  _do_ have a base, but their main base—Starkiller—it's gone. A  _lot_ is gone.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there. Stars, I seriously thought I'd killed you, though.”

You shrugged with arms still wrapped around Pickles. “I escaped, but... I can't really say that I had  _wanted_ to at the time. I left someone behind, and I'm still torn up inside about it.”

Jessika frowned. “Sorry to hear about that. I guess even the death of someone in the First Order can be tough.”

“I didn't say they were  _dead_ ,” you interjected. Or at least you were still currently assuming that Kylo wasn't dead. “But... Listen, it's just really difficult to explain, and I'm not sure how much I should reveal.”

“What? It's not like you could have gotten  _that_ deep into the First Order since you weren't military. What secrets would  _you_ have?” Jessika almost scoffed at this but grew serious again once she looked at your face. You were sweating bullets and looked like you would vomit. “You...  _didn't_ get deep into the First Order, did you? Stars, what am I going to do with you?”

“I don't know,” you sighed. “But I was in deep.”

“ _How_ deep? Are we talking 'friendly basis' with lieutenants? Had a conversation at lunch with a captain? Saw that ginger-ass general in the hallways?”

“That  _ginger-arse_ general happens to be General Hux, with whom I'm...  _extremely_ angry.”

“Yeah, join the club. We all saw what he did with the Starkiller Base's weapon. But you don't  _know_ him, do you?”

Your face twitched as you stared down at Pickles and gave a slight nod.

“Stars,” Jessika hissed. “Next, you're going to tell me you met that bastard Kylo Ren--”

“Yes.”

“ _Yes_ what?”

“ _Yes_ , I met Kylo Ren. And speaking of which, there's something I need to do. I didn't just come here to collect Pickles or see you—not that I don't just  _love_ getting laid into by your sass--”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“I know.” You sighed and stood up, placing Pickles onto the bed. “But I also came here because there's someone I need to speak with, and it's important. The general—Leia Organa. I need to speak with her. Immediately.”

Jessika laughed sarcastically and stood up, moving toward the open doorway as Samson stayed perched beside her desk—wide eyed and imagining what kind of trouble he was about to be in for having brought you to D'Qar. “Listen,” Jessika scoffed. “You can't just meet up with General Organa like you know her.”

You stepped toward the door, taking a deep breath as you tried to look as opposing as possible. “Jess... I'm serious. Where can I find her?”

She rolled her eyes. “Her command centre is just a little further down this row of barracks, but you are  _not_ going to see her. She's way too busy. And why would you need to talk to her anyway? Unless you're about to divulge secret First Order business—and even in that case, you would need to have it okayed with her advisers to even speak with her.”

You groaned and pushed past Jessika, walking back into the barracks hallway and then outside.  _Fuck this_ . You'd find Leia yourself if you had to.

“Wait, now, hold on!” Jessika reached for your arm, but you flinched out of the way and then broke into a run down the gravel path. She groaned with Samson now behind her.

“I shouldn't have brought her...” he sighed. “My apologies.”

“Don't worry about it, Sam. She's just being a child like all the other First Order jerks.”

Breaking into a steady run, Jessika then followed behind, sure of her ability to catch up to you  _eventually_ . She had always been a faster sprinter than you, after all. But you were determined with your head start, and not even the pull of stitches against your abdomen was going to stop you at this moment.

You were panting as you turned past several barracks and headed toward a sign pointing in the direction of the command centre and generals' quarters. Jessika was still yelling behind you when you nearly toppled over a soldier who was walking out of a medical tent. With a little yelp, you twisted around the man and then gasped when you realised just who it was. Standing before you was a young soldier whom you had once known as a Storm Trooper.

“You!” you shouted whilst turning around and pausing for just a moment. “FN-2187! I know you!”

He seemed slightly shocked but stood his ground. His dark eyes traced you up and down, trying to figure out if you were a figment of his imagination or not. “It's Finn, actually.”

“Finn. Finn, okay.” You nodded. That was a name that you could  _actually_ remember. You glanced back down the path and could see Jessika getting ever closer, and your feet wanted to flee but heart said to stay. To apologise. To ask him how he got there. To just make sense of him being alive.

He looked so suspicious of you, frowning as you tried to pass by. He glanced over at Jessika who was now skidding to a stop beside him. He raised an eyebrow as though questioning if she knew what she was doing by allowing you to be on the Resistance base.

You caught his line of sight and saw the worry. “I don't blame you for not trusting me,” you mentioned. “I wouldn't trust me, either. But you were my guardian angel. I haven't forgotten that.”

He blushed in spite of himself, just hardly visible against his dark skin. He hadn't forgotten, either. “Go on,” he sighed, letting you pass as Jessika sputtered out in frustration beside him.

You gave Finn a sad, thankful smile and then ran past with Jessika yapping at your heels like a toy dog.

“I mean it; you can't just barge in to the general's quarters and demand to talk to her!” Jessika hissed from behind you.

“No, that's  _exactly_ what I'm doing.”

Jessika groaned and grabbed at your wrist, but you twisted from her grasp and started running like hell through an open doorway and down the hall. It wasn't as though you knew where you were going on the Resistance Base, but you had  _other_ methods of finding what you wanted. Clearing your mind as much as possible, you let go of any distractions. You weren't  _entirely_ sure how Kylo had managed to meditate and remove his thoughts, but you had a fairly good idea and tried to do the same. You tried to  _feel_ where General Organa would be—tried to trust whatever instincts were still left inside of you.

_Where are you?_

You turned down another hall, not knowing if you had actually made a conscious decision on the matter, but so long as it took you further from Jessika, then it would give you time. And that's really what you needed by this point. Time to find your bearings. Time to find General Leia Organa. Time to understand just what in the hell had happened to your life.

Turning again, you ran into a dead end full of closed doors, and Jessika's light footsteps weren't far behind. She rounded the corner, face flushed and long black hair escaping its ponytail.

“I  _told_ you--” She started to yell out, but her lips stopped halfway as she stared in surprise just over your shoulder.

Slightly confused, you looked behind you to see a woman exiting one of the doors, her brown and grey hair plaited in a crown around her head and face heavy with stress. You had seen her face before. God, you had seen it so many times, but never with your own eyes. It had always been in Kylo's dreams—in memories that haunted through the depths of his mind. There was no doubting who she was, even if she was older now than in those memories.

She was General Leia Organa. Kylo Ren's mother.

Jessika's posture stiffened as she gave a solute. “General.”

Leia nodded toward Jessika but then looked at you. “A new face.”

“You don't know me,” you said, testing the words in your mouth. “But you're about to.”

“I'm so sorry!” Jessika interrupted as she tried to pull you back down the hall, but you ripped your wrist from her once again, determined to stand your ground.

Leia didn't look the most amused but waited with her hands on her hips. “And how can I help a civilian on my base?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to stand tall and collect yourself. “It's about...” Shit, how in the hell were you going to explain this? “It's about Kylo Ren.”

The seriousness on Leia's face instantly fell to a look of pained concern, and she took a small step forward. Her eyebrows narrowed as she studied your face, and you knew then that she was using the Force to probe your intentions. There was no mistaking it.

“You know him?” she asked.

You nodded. “I know him better than anyone else right now. And I know that he's in danger. And...” Your throat was constricting as you spoke. “...and I can't reach him, and God, it hurts so bad because I know that he needs me!” Tears were pooling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, and you couldn't control your voice at all. It hiccuped in small bursts, warping the volume of your speech as sobs broke free. “He's messed up. He's trapped by Snoke, and damn it, he's so determined to fall into the Darkness, but there's so much damned  _Light_ in him! And he won't listen! He's... God, I don't even know! He's torn up inside, and I feel it all!”

Jessika was silent behind you, but you could hear her take a few steps back as you fell down to your knees in the hallway, face pressed into your hands.

“Kylo's in so much danger, and I can't save him, but I know I  _have_ to! I need help, and I need guidance, and I need someone who's just as invested in him—in Kylo, in  _Ben_ . And you were my only hope to figure this all out. To figure out how to shake the Light back into him!”

You sobbed for a few moments more, your back heaving. It felt as though your whole world was crumbling, and yet, a weight had been lifted. Some enormous weight that you hadn't even been aware of was now sliding from your shoulders and sinking beneath your feet, lifting you up. Slowly, you brought yourself back to standing as you wiped at your tears and finally opened your eyes.

You saw Leia before you, her eyes wet and mouth trembling as she reached forward and wrapped her arms around you like a mother, her hand slowly patting at your back.

You sniffled and returned the hug. “Leia, I love him. God, I love him so much, and I can't bear this.”

She nodded, her plaited hair tickling against your chin. She was so  _tiny_ . It was amazing to think that Kylo could be so tall in comparison. “I know,” she said.

Leia was your life raft in that moment as you held onto her. “I don't... I don't know  _how_ , but I'm going to bring him back. I'm going to bring your son back to the Light.”

A soft laugh came from Leia as she pulled away and looked up at you with her hands on your upper arms. She was taking you in, looking at you not just as a crying woman before her but the woman that her son loved. The woman who could somehow break through all of his defences and manage to love him—just as Leia had done so many years before with someone equally as hard-headed and rebellious.

“You're right,” Leia sighed, and she wiped at her eye and regained her composure. “I didn't know you, but you're right about me knowing you now. I can't claim to know the full extent of what has gone on between you and my son, but... I know that you will do this. You feel it; I feel it.” She pressed her hand against your heart for just a moment, and the warmth of her fingers was so incredibly familiar. Even though she was an entirely different person than Kylo Ren, something similar remained. It was that same spirit, that same fire, that same control of the Force that flowed through your own veins as you shared that moment of understanding.

You swallowed, the tears no longer falling down your cheeks as you took in a deep breath and felt your limbs lighten. You were buoyant. Something freed within you, and you reaffirmed your pledge.

“I'll do it. I'll pull him back to the Light if it's the last thing I do.” A smile started to pull at your lips, and you closed your eyes, feeling the pledge become something more. “I'm going to bring your son back. That's a  _promise_ .”

Leia matched your smile and gave your arms a squeeze as she nodded in agreement.

The one promise that you could make was between you and  _exactly_ the only other person whom you felt safe making  _any_ promise to. And you believed it. You truly, fully believed in this promise as you looked down into Leia's eyes and saw each and every wrinkle—each piece of evidence of how much she had gone through to get to this point and yet still stand strong like an immovable tree. She was a willow, bending but never breaking, and you were the sprout at her feet—ready to become part of her forest.

That promise held in the air. It was almost tangible in its strength. It was pure. It was true. It was real.

Kylo Ren was going to be brought back from the clutches of Snoke and dragged to the Light whether he liked it or not. Of that much, you were completely certain.

* * *

 

 **A/N:** So, this has been an absolutely amazing journey to share with all of you as I wrote my first ever fic. I'm still in shock that I not only wrote this but finished it and managed to meet so many wonderful people along the way. Your guys' encouragement and enthusiasm has truly been a blessing, and I am so thankful to have had an opportunity to write about what I love for such an amazing audience. I can only hope to continue writing more stories for you all now that I kind of know what I'm doing. My next challenge will be [The First and Final Armament](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6161710/chapters/14118355), which has already started up as an assassin-filled adventure fic, also in second person and involving a love affair with the First Order. After that, I am developing the sequel to _Starkiller Science_ , which is tentatively being called _Crescent Base Captives_. And after that? Who knows. We'll see where the winds take me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Science of Staying Gray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532201) by [the_obsidian_ronin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_obsidian_ronin/pseuds/the_obsidian_ronin)




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